He's not sure what the expect when they advance. They kneel. They reach forward and - welp, sure was nice while it lasted, huh? Nice to know he's gonna die by the hands of the same kid that killed him, that's for damned sure. Nice to know he opened himself up to him, made himself vulnerable to them, like an idiot. So long folks, was real great knowing you, but it's time for the curtain call and it's not like anyone is gonna fuckin' miss him, because he has just about fucked over every person that could possibly give a damn -
But then they reach out for him, a hand opened in apparent peace.
He blinks, slow and mildly disbelieving.
So maybe it turns out he's a sap. He's susceptible to this sorta thing. And this could just as easily be a ruse to yank the rug out from under him - serves him right, huh? He did the kid the same turn. The same wrong, wrong, sickening turn.
But in the end, he's too tired to care.
He accepts the hand. Allows them to serve as the support through which he levers himself to his feet.
"Nah, kid. I - y'know, you're right." Bizarre as it is to admit it. Bizarre as it is to even be having this conversation. "Things're different in Hadriel, and I should hold myself to that just as easy, huh?"
He studies them for a long moment, his smile ragged at the edges, tired and - and maybe, just possibly, laced with the faintest shred of a peculiar fondness.
"And, uh. Y'know what? Yeah. I don't wanna kill ya. Either of ya. For a long time, I felt like I was the only thing keepin' the two of you in line. But, y'know." He'd shrug if the motion wasn't so monumentally painful, an effort he simply doesn't think he has in him. "Maybe that ain't so necessary anymore."
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But then they reach out for him, a hand opened in apparent peace.
He blinks, slow and mildly disbelieving.
So maybe it turns out he's a sap. He's susceptible to this sorta thing. And this could just as easily be a ruse to yank the rug out from under him - serves him right, huh? He did the kid the same turn. The same wrong, wrong, sickening turn.
But in the end, he's too tired to care.
He accepts the hand. Allows them to serve as the support through which he levers himself to his feet.
"Nah, kid. I - y'know, you're right." Bizarre as it is to admit it. Bizarre as it is to even be having this conversation. "Things're different in Hadriel, and I should hold myself to that just as easy, huh?"
He studies them for a long moment, his smile ragged at the edges, tired and - and maybe, just possibly, laced with the faintest shred of a peculiar fondness.
"And, uh. Y'know what? Yeah. I don't wanna kill ya. Either of ya. For a long time, I felt like I was the only thing keepin' the two of you in line. But, y'know." He'd shrug if the motion wasn't so monumentally painful, an effort he simply doesn't think he has in him. "Maybe that ain't so necessary anymore."