[ it makes his skin crawl, that contact. all of it. he resists, at first, his upper lip curling and the fist of his gauntlet clenching so that the tapered claws shriek softly with rubbing metal. he resists until he can't anymore, even though he's physically sickened by the gesture, instantly furious, wanting nothing more than to do what he always does and push her away, lash out, make himself intimidating, use violence to get his point across if that's what he has to do. the fact that she's as gentle and harmless, at the moment, as she is only incenses him more—or it would, if he could really feel anything other than the pain.
his tall frame bends to let his head come to rest on her shoulder, and all the gritted teeth in the world can't bite back the sob he lets out as he does. there's little else he can think of that could be worse than this, weak and pitiful and crying like a useless little child on the shoulder of a stranger. and such shameful crying, too, ugly and raucous in a way he never was even after his father died. during all the most horrible moments in his life, he's been silent. now it feels like he's making up for it all at once.
his left hand finds her opposite arm, and in spite of the concerning claws, the unforgiving metal that hand is made of, it's an altogether gentle gesture. it's the only one he'll allow, and only for a moment or two. just as soon as the tears and the agony start to let up, and he feels so sick with discomfort, he can't take it anymore and jerks back, hissing. it only lasts a minute, maybe, but that in itself is monumentally huge, for him. ]
Ngh—I don't need to be comforted like some sniveling child! Why wait for them to show their hand first? I'll hunt them down, whoever it is, however many of them there are, and I'll make them pay. It's as simple as that.
[ funny how he still sounds so fragile when he says it, one arm wrapped around himself protectively, and yet he seems just a little less ruined than he was a moment ago. ]
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his tall frame bends to let his head come to rest on her shoulder, and all the gritted teeth in the world can't bite back the sob he lets out as he does. there's little else he can think of that could be worse than this, weak and pitiful and crying like a useless little child on the shoulder of a stranger. and such shameful crying, too, ugly and raucous in a way he never was even after his father died. during all the most horrible moments in his life, he's been silent. now it feels like he's making up for it all at once.
his left hand finds her opposite arm, and in spite of the concerning claws, the unforgiving metal that hand is made of, it's an altogether gentle gesture. it's the only one he'll allow, and only for a moment or two. just as soon as the tears and the agony start to let up, and he feels so sick with discomfort, he can't take it anymore and jerks back, hissing. it only lasts a minute, maybe, but that in itself is monumentally huge, for him. ]
Ngh—I don't need to be comforted like some sniveling child! Why wait for them to show their hand first? I'll hunt them down, whoever it is, however many of them there are, and I'll make them pay. It's as simple as that.
[ funny how he still sounds so fragile when he says it, one arm wrapped around himself protectively, and yet he seems just a little less ruined than he was a moment ago. ]