I'm fine. [ He repeats, though his words no more accentuated than before. It's as if it's nothing but a statement, an easy shrug and what happened to Green moments ago. He's not going to make it into a big deal right now, he won't. He's fine physically, that's ... all that matters.
Everything else seems a little distant. ] I can sit elsewhere.
[ Aaand that's attempt one at walking past Red - whether or not it'll succeed. He doesn't seem too keen on forcing his way out of it either...? ]
He turns back, stopping in his tracks and staring at Red with a surprised kind of look. The first question in his head is why? Quickly followed by a short, but stern refusal.
But given Red and his ... stubbornness even when Green took Red's magazine, he knows shaking off the other is going to be difficult. And he doesn't want to bother with the entire argument thing right now.
Green's tired. ]
Do whatever you want. [ He's going to continue walking, outside of the medical rover and onto a nearby place to sit. That's it. That's all he does. ]
[ Red was ready to argue, but in Green's apparent state right now, he was more ready to move his feet to follow as he does. If all that Green does is sit, then it's all Red does too.
--To begin with, anyway. Because when they sit, Red gives Green a quick look over from his place, his fingers digging into his knees. His sight doesn't linger on him, but it doesn't linger so long on the ground between his legs either, following the noise of medical and then to the ground once more. It stays a while, until a thought brings him back to Green. ]
Is Arcanine alright? [ He doesn't think Arcanine got hurt too (but then, what if-?), but the real question in that is Where was Arcanine?
If the pokémon had to witness his trainer suffering... ]
[ Somehow, he's not surprised by the question. Green's actually glad that this is the question he's asked, posture deflating a little as he processes the words, then properly formulates an answer.
When it comes, his eyes have flickered from the ground to the line of trees in the distance, then at the pokeball by his side. ]
He's fine.
I left him inside his pokeball. [ "The entire time" doesn't even need to be said. He picks the ball up, tosses the red-and-white device in his hands, without actually letting the beast out. It'll probably stay like that for the time being. ]
[ Red watches the ball leave and fall back into Green's hand, the ease that he does it with. It's a small relief, a little something more than how it'd come to him when he'd first seen Green coming out from medical. Red makes a sound, lips pressed together as he nods his head. ]
Good... [ His eyes shut and his head tips. He means it, though there simplicity of it all - Green's action, his words, no frustration - that doesn't leave him satisfied for more than the moment over the news. He wants to ask him why. Why did this happen? What happened?, but it's out of an impulse for an answer that will never be good enough. (There can't be. There's no reason for torture like this.)
But he wants more all the same, and from Green, too. His thumbs press in harder into his legs, holding back on bursting out in an anger like he wants to, and his eyes flicker open to the sight of the red and white ball once more. ]
They could've killed you. [ It's a low voice, but it's not a whisper. He's keeping it level, somehow, for now. ] Aren't you going to say anything?
[ Ah, here it is. The words he was waiting for (expecting? Figured would come sooner or later? They're all the same, by this point).
But even when they come he doesn't feel the immediate spike of annoyance, or any sort of resentment. He still feels ... empty. Tired. And they're both feelings he's perfectly okay with, he finds, easily embracing them - better than most of his emotions, actually.
Apparently, shock does some weird things to do (not that he knows this).
So he combats those words - those carefully controlled words - with the same simplicity as the beginning. ] Say what?
"You shouldn't have done that"? [ The pokeball in his hand stops moving. ] There's no point, is there? It already happened.
[ It's hard to keep in, that surge through him. Through his throat and into his lungs, beating his blood in an ugly way. He's picking into his trouser with a single nail, rubbing it into his skin, and his toes press inside his shoes, though that does less for the energy in him. ]
So what - [ He looks away from the ball, going from it to the dirt floor. ] It doesn't matter? We can't do anything, so why care? What's the point of being mad?
[ The emotion seeps in, little by little, while still his voice keeps low. ] Do you even know why?
Or doesn't that matter. [ And there, the bitterness, hardening his words. ]
[ Was he this naive when he was 12 years old? He hopes not.
Or at least, that's the only idle thought Green can form in his head, eyes not quite meeting Red's -- but also not looking at anywhere in particular anymore. ] ... I think so.
[ It's one thing he's willing to admit truthfully, because the sequence of events make it so painfully obvious. If it isn't because he screwed up a mission he wasn't supposed to (granted, you're not supposed to screw up any mission), then he'd be ... angrier about this.
Maybe later, though. Right now ... ] I'm pretty sure. [ He'll have to double check. Later. ]
I told you, it's punishment. "Don't screw up again".
[ It's suffocating, and Red can't stay seated any longer, raising up onto his feet from his place beside - or whoever it is this person he's with is, who Red turns on his heel just to check. But the older boy's words are a clearer image than the person in front of him, a person willing to accept something so horrible without question and act like nothing but a fixture to their situation. ]
I'll never be like that. I'll never stop caring. [ Someone who wouldn't feel, because what was the point. Someone who would be so compliant to their place in all of this.
He can't do anything for somebody like that. Not here, not right now. His own emotions are much too loud, the names of the people suffering much too long. So Red continues, without much more than a short pause from the last of his words: ]
I'm going to help. Do what you want. [ A beat, and then- ] Peter Parker called you his friend. How about you pretend to care about what happened to him the next time you see him. Garrus too.
[ He says it like venom, to sink into a place where he hopes (he knows, he wants to) exist. But he won't wait to see, turning on his feet to begin walking away, too scared to take any satisfaction from whatever response it achieves. And he wants to help, whatever that may be -- he'll figure something out. ]
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Everything else seems a little distant. ] I can sit elsewhere.
[ Aaand that's attempt one at walking past Red - whether or not it'll succeed. He doesn't seem too keen on forcing his way out of it either...? ]
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Fine, but I'm coming with you.
[ Yep. ]
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He turns back, stopping in his tracks and staring at Red with a surprised kind of look. The first question in his head is why? Quickly followed by a short, but stern refusal.
But given Red and his ... stubbornness even when Green took Red's magazine, he knows shaking off the other is going to be difficult. And he doesn't want to bother with the entire argument thing right now.
Green's tired. ]
Do whatever you want. [ He's going to continue walking, outside of the medical rover and onto a nearby place to sit. That's it. That's all he does. ]
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--To begin with, anyway. Because when they sit, Red gives Green a quick look over from his place, his fingers digging into his knees. His sight doesn't linger on him, but it doesn't linger so long on the ground between his legs either, following the noise of medical and then to the ground once more. It stays a while, until a thought brings him back to Green. ]
Is Arcanine alright? [ He doesn't think Arcanine got hurt too (but then, what if-?), but the real question in that is Where was Arcanine?
If the pokémon had to witness his trainer suffering... ]
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When it comes, his eyes have flickered from the ground to the line of trees in the distance, then at the pokeball by his side. ]
He's fine.
I left him inside his pokeball. [ "The entire time" doesn't even need to be said. He picks the ball up, tosses the red-and-white device in his hands, without actually letting the beast out. It'll probably stay like that for the time being. ]
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Good... [ His eyes shut and his head tips. He means it, though there simplicity of it all - Green's action, his words, no frustration - that doesn't leave him satisfied for more than the moment over the news. He wants to ask him why. Why did this happen? What happened?, but it's out of an impulse for an answer that will never be good enough. (There can't be. There's no reason for torture like this.)
But he wants more all the same, and from Green, too. His thumbs press in harder into his legs, holding back on bursting out in an anger like he wants to, and his eyes flicker open to the sight of the red and white ball once more. ]
They could've killed you. [ It's a low voice, but it's not a whisper. He's keeping it level, somehow, for now. ] Aren't you going to say anything?
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But even when they come he doesn't feel the immediate spike of annoyance, or any sort of resentment. He still feels ... empty. Tired. And they're both feelings he's perfectly okay with, he finds, easily embracing them - better than most of his emotions, actually.
Apparently, shock does some weird things to do (not that he knows this).
So he combats those words - those carefully controlled words - with the same simplicity as the beginning. ] Say what?
"You shouldn't have done that"? [ The pokeball in his hand stops moving. ] There's no point, is there? It already happened.
It's punishment, not a death sentence.
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So what - [ He looks away from the ball, going from it to the dirt floor. ] It doesn't matter? We can't do anything, so why care? What's the point of being mad?
[ The emotion seeps in, little by little, while still his voice keeps low. ] Do you even know why?
Or doesn't that matter. [ And there, the bitterness, hardening his words. ]
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Or at least, that's the only idle thought Green can form in his head, eyes not quite meeting Red's -- but also not looking at anywhere in particular anymore. ] ... I think so.
[ It's one thing he's willing to admit truthfully, because the sequence of events make it so painfully obvious. If it isn't because he screwed up a mission he wasn't supposed to (granted, you're not supposed to screw up any mission), then he'd be ... angrier about this.
Maybe later, though. Right now ... ] I'm pretty sure. [ He'll have to double check. Later. ]
I told you, it's punishment. "Don't screw up again".
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[ It's suffocating, and Red can't stay seated any longer, raising up onto his feet from his place beside - or whoever it is this person he's with is, who Red turns on his heel just to check. But the older boy's words are a clearer image than the person in front of him, a person willing to accept something so horrible without question and act like nothing but a fixture to their situation. ]
I'll never be like that. I'll never stop caring. [ Someone who wouldn't feel, because what was the point. Someone who would be so compliant to their place in all of this.
He can't do anything for somebody like that. Not here, not right now. His own emotions are much too loud, the names of the people suffering much too long. So Red continues, without much more than a short pause from the last of his words: ]
I'm going to help. Do what you want. [ A beat, and then- ] Peter Parker called you his friend. How about you pretend to care about what happened to him the next time you see him. Garrus too.
[ He says it like venom, to sink into a place where he hopes (he knows, he wants to) exist. But he won't wait to see, turning on his feet to begin walking away, too scared to take any satisfaction from whatever response it achieves. And he wants to help, whatever that may be -- he'll figure something out. ]