[ It's said flatly, not because Amos doesn't mean the apology — well, he kinda doesn't; he's wronged Gen in much more grievous ways than being late for a meeting the kid himself set — but because he has only so much ability to express platitudes on a good day, and this isn't exactly a good day.
At least he's looking more like a person, though. Can't do a whole lot about the cuts and bruises on his neck — nor on his wrists and forearms as he has his sleeves rolled up, not caring enough to hide them, but that's more completely normal for him rather than being in the throes of a self-pitying bender — but his hair is finally brushed. The bags under his eyes are a little less prominent. He's mostly alert, and that's about as good as anyone could hope for.
Can't stop the way his eyes linger on the white in Gen's hair, though. For as good as he is at keeping his expression mostly blank, he can't stop that pang of self-loathing, and it'd probably be difficult to hide that from a fellow member of his legacy anyway. Instead Amos brushes past Gen to pay the bartender way more than he'd have to just to get a single drink. Though he's still getting one all the same, and he turns back to Gen as he waits for it, claims the seat next to him. ]
I'm here now. You wanted to talk.
[ There's a degree of emptiness to his words, like he's bracing himself to get scolded. Even though it's the least of what he deserves, it's not like he's been raring to receive it. ]
no subject
[ It's said flatly, not because Amos doesn't mean the apology — well, he kinda doesn't; he's wronged Gen in much more grievous ways than being late for a meeting the kid himself set — but because he has only so much ability to express platitudes on a good day, and this isn't exactly a good day.
At least he's looking more like a person, though. Can't do a whole lot about the cuts and bruises on his neck — nor on his wrists and forearms as he has his sleeves rolled up, not caring enough to hide them, but that's more completely normal for him rather than being in the throes of a self-pitying bender — but his hair is finally brushed. The bags under his eyes are a little less prominent. He's mostly alert, and that's about as good as anyone could hope for.
Can't stop the way his eyes linger on the white in Gen's hair, though. For as good as he is at keeping his expression mostly blank, he can't stop that pang of self-loathing, and it'd probably be difficult to hide that from a fellow member of his legacy anyway. Instead Amos brushes past Gen to pay the bartender way more than he'd have to just to get a single drink. Though he's still getting one all the same, and he turns back to Gen as he waits for it, claims the seat next to him. ]
I'm here now. You wanted to talk.
[ There's a degree of emptiness to his words, like he's bracing himself to get scolded. Even though it's the least of what he deserves, it's not like he's been raring to receive it. ]