That's bullshit and they both know it. Gen knows Ciel knows they both know it. (And yet.)
The chair creaks Gen uneasily shifts his weight, averting his gaze as he tries to think past the exhausted fog that's been filling his head for days on end, now. He can feel his pulse ring in his ears every time he thinks too hard about that fight with Dokja. But the same time, it's not like he can not think about it -- he's not like Misa, not able to simply turn his thoughts away from it. So if he's going to be plagued by reminders of it constantly, without warning, those intrusive thoughts persistently slipping before his eyes no matter what else he tries to distract himself with ... maybe it's worth at least exchanging them for some answers.
(Maybe. His gut instinct insists that it's not -- he's not someone meant to be honest, he's meant to hold things close to his chest forever, until he dies. He tries to fight past that knowledge.) ]
Then -- ...
[ His voice comes halting, and Gen stops almost immediately. Swallows thickly, then sits forth in his chair, leaning heavily against the countertop in some vague attempt to seem more steadfast about this decision. But there's just no way to hide the deepset anxiety that he practically exudes as he forces himself to continue, his voice hoarse with more than just exhaustion. ]
-- then you go first. I'll do it. But ... I want answers, first.
[ But more than that, he doesn't want to linger after having shown Ciel his side of the story. Wants to exit the scene immediately afterward. Already, his desire to simply leave is obvious from the tension rife in his posture, but he still fights against it to tug down the high collar of his shirt, his shard gleaming where it sits at his throat. ]
no subject
That's bullshit and they both know it. Gen knows Ciel knows they both know it. (And yet.)
The chair creaks Gen uneasily shifts his weight, averting his gaze as he tries to think past the exhausted fog that's been filling his head for days on end, now. He can feel his pulse ring in his ears every time he thinks too hard about that fight with Dokja. But the same time, it's not like he can not think about it -- he's not like Misa, not able to simply turn his thoughts away from it. So if he's going to be plagued by reminders of it constantly, without warning, those intrusive thoughts persistently slipping before his eyes no matter what else he tries to distract himself with ... maybe it's worth at least exchanging them for some answers.
(Maybe. His gut instinct insists that it's not -- he's not someone meant to be honest, he's meant to hold things close to his chest forever, until he dies. He tries to fight past that knowledge.) ]
Then -- ...
[ His voice comes halting, and Gen stops almost immediately. Swallows thickly, then sits forth in his chair, leaning heavily against the countertop in some vague attempt to seem more steadfast about this decision. But there's just no way to hide the deepset anxiety that he practically exudes as he forces himself to continue, his voice hoarse with more than just exhaustion. ]
-- then you go first. I'll do it. But ... I want answers, first.
[ But more than that, he doesn't want to linger after having shown Ciel his side of the story. Wants to exit the scene immediately afterward. Already, his desire to simply leave is obvious from the tension rife in his posture, but he still fights against it to tug down the high collar of his shirt, his shard gleaming where it sits at his throat. ]
No deal, otherwise.