[ He'd been listening uncomfortably to Amos' words, but Gen bristles slightly when he finally retorts: ]
So what. You think I couldn't hurt you if I really wanted to?
[ He's not sure if he's supposed to take that level of trust(?) as an implicit compliment, or be insulted that Amos apparently thinks of him as that weak. The volume of his voice had risen a level with that prickly retort, and feeling the curious stares of the few other patrons, Gen glances over his shoulder to shoot them a vicious glare; for better or for worse, his stink-eye has enough venom to ward them off for now.
But point taken, he reels his voice back down to a lower mutter when he speaks again. ]
... s'not like there's anything you can do about it, anyway. Whatever happened there messed up pretty much all of us -- nobody I talked to was immune to that shit. You really think there's something you can do when that kind of magic bullshit's in play? [ His barstool creaks when he leans forward to tap his empty glass on the bartop, gesturing for the bartender to get him another one. Fuck it, he's not tipsy enough yet, like hell he's going to deal with this conversation sober. Gen slouches as he sinks back into his seat and looks at Amos. ] So just ... we're just supposed to deal with it. What happened happened, we're both alive, I just got my hair messed up, and yeah, I'm a little annoyed but I'm not pissed at you. Why's it so important to you?
[ It feels like he's missing some sort of connection to Amos' logic here. ]
no subject
So what. You think I couldn't hurt you if I really wanted to?
[ He's not sure if he's supposed to take that level of trust(?) as an implicit compliment, or be insulted that Amos apparently thinks of him as that weak. The volume of his voice had risen a level with that prickly retort, and feeling the curious stares of the few other patrons, Gen glances over his shoulder to shoot them a vicious glare; for better or for worse, his stink-eye has enough venom to ward them off for now.
But point taken, he reels his voice back down to a lower mutter when he speaks again. ]
... s'not like there's anything you can do about it, anyway. Whatever happened there messed up pretty much all of us -- nobody I talked to was immune to that shit. You really think there's something you can do when that kind of magic bullshit's in play? [ His barstool creaks when he leans forward to tap his empty glass on the bartop, gesturing for the bartender to get him another one. Fuck it, he's not tipsy enough yet, like hell he's going to deal with this conversation sober. Gen slouches as he sinks back into his seat and looks at Amos. ] So just ... we're just supposed to deal with it. What happened happened, we're both alive, I just got my hair messed up, and yeah, I'm a little annoyed but I'm not pissed at you. Why's it so important to you?
[ It feels like he's missing some sort of connection to Amos' logic here. ]