[ Yes, it's obvious that Gen's in dire need of proper rest, his body struggling from an onslaught of nightmares and irregular meals. But at least he still has the energy to bristle at that uncharitable interpretation of what had happened in Venera. His brow's furrowed sharply beneath the shadow of his tangled hair, his mouth a hard slash of disapproval, and there's a more irate edge to his voice when he mutters, ]
We came damn close to snuffing him. If things had worked out a bit different -- if we'd been a little faster, if that lame fuck with that bubble hadn't gotten in the way ... We could've killed him before he could pull any of that bullshit, he just got lucky.
[ He knows, though. Even as he says these things, he knows that the hypotheticals he's throwing out mean nothing. 'If's are worthless in the face of what actually happens. It's just that ... a part of him can't help wondering if things might have turned out differently, if he and M had been able to kill Estinien before that turning point. If they'd been able to ambush him from the get-go before the fight could escalate. If there was simply no need to keep Abel and Himeka here as hostages to draw him here into foreign territory.
(But then what. Then Abel might simply be dead, instead. Is that really better?)
He might have bristled for a moment, but Gen's anger sputters out incredibly quickly, nothing like the stubborn ire he can usually muster. Gen drops his gaze as he starts raising the remaining half of the sandwich to his mouth to eat, pauses, then gives up on it and lowers it once more. His appetite's already starting to wane again; it never seems to stick around for long these days, leaving him with a persistent sickly feeling sitting heavy in his gut. Gen swallows thickly before speaking again, his voice forced flat like he's fine with this subject of conversation. Refusing to acknowledge that he hates every second of it. ]
... so if Estinien ends up here -- what then? It's all over as long as he dies? What happens to -- [ Abel. His lips start to form that name before he catches himself, that first syllable dying in his throat so he can change tack. ] -- to the prisoners, once Estinien croaks. We kill them then?
[ Does he even really want Abel dead? He'd thought he did, at a certain point. Now he doesn't know any more. It feels like his lungs threaten to cave in on themselves if he thinks about it too hard. -- Gen's barely aware of it himself, his expression is tinged with a quiet desperation when he looks to her after that question, blindly searching for something. What he's seeking, he doesn't know himself. ]
no subject
[ Yes, it's obvious that Gen's in dire need of proper rest, his body struggling from an onslaught of nightmares and irregular meals. But at least he still has the energy to bristle at that uncharitable interpretation of what had happened in Venera. His brow's furrowed sharply beneath the shadow of his tangled hair, his mouth a hard slash of disapproval, and there's a more irate edge to his voice when he mutters, ]
We came damn close to snuffing him. If things had worked out a bit different -- if we'd been a little faster, if that lame fuck with that bubble hadn't gotten in the way ... We could've killed him before he could pull any of that bullshit, he just got lucky.
[ He knows, though. Even as he says these things, he knows that the hypotheticals he's throwing out mean nothing. 'If's are worthless in the face of what actually happens. It's just that ... a part of him can't help wondering if things might have turned out differently, if he and M had been able to kill Estinien before that turning point. If they'd been able to ambush him from the get-go before the fight could escalate. If there was simply no need to keep Abel and Himeka here as hostages to draw him here into foreign territory.
(But then what. Then Abel might simply be dead, instead. Is that really better?)
He might have bristled for a moment, but Gen's anger sputters out incredibly quickly, nothing like the stubborn ire he can usually muster. Gen drops his gaze as he starts raising the remaining half of the sandwich to his mouth to eat, pauses, then gives up on it and lowers it once more. His appetite's already starting to wane again; it never seems to stick around for long these days, leaving him with a persistent sickly feeling sitting heavy in his gut. Gen swallows thickly before speaking again, his voice forced flat like he's fine with this subject of conversation. Refusing to acknowledge that he hates every second of it. ]
... so if Estinien ends up here -- what then? It's all over as long as he dies? What happens to -- [ Abel. His lips start to form that name before he catches himself, that first syllable dying in his throat so he can change tack. ] -- to the prisoners, once Estinien croaks. We kill them then?
[ Does he even really want Abel dead? He'd thought he did, at a certain point. Now he doesn't know any more. It feels like his lungs threaten to cave in on themselves if he thinks about it too hard. -- Gen's barely aware of it himself, his expression is tinged with a quiet desperation when he looks to her after that question, blindly searching for something. What he's seeking, he doesn't know himself. ]