[ Maybe it's because he's incredibly conscious of everything at the moment, he can see her casual attempts to air the heavy atmosphere out. But as much as he'd like to cooperate in that, he can't exactly think of a better response. If his big bro was here, he definitely would've known what to say better in this kind of situation. Goddammit, what would he say?
Mondo's intense nape rubbing promptly halts when he hears what she has to say after. The awkward look in his face pales.
I trust you.
His train of thoughts stop there, his movements freeze. Words that are supposed to warm his heart send sharp prickles to it. ]
...'m... not really trustworthy.
[ Ah, that's right. He's been getting too far ahead of himself.
He was internally glad that he was slowly making some 'friends' here, the rare few ones he'd made his gang back home, those who weren't hanging out with him out of 'duty'. It was a good feeling, to know that some people have your back. But it just hits him that that also means one thing: they're the people who don't know of his past.
His arm drops to his side, unable to meet her eyes now. What would she think if she knew? Does he trust her as much as she trusts him? He tries to swallow something, gulp back something, to wash over his increasingly dry throat. But even then, the words can't climb up. ]
( action )
[ Maybe it's because he's incredibly conscious of everything at the moment, he can see her casual attempts to air the heavy atmosphere out. But as much as he'd like to cooperate in that, he can't exactly think of a better response. If his big bro was here, he definitely would've known what to say better in this kind of situation. Goddammit, what would he say?
Mondo's intense nape rubbing promptly halts when he hears what she has to say after. The awkward look in his face pales.
I trust you.
His train of thoughts stop there, his movements freeze. Words that are supposed to warm his heart send sharp prickles to it. ]
...'m... not really trustworthy.
[ Ah, that's right. He's been getting too far ahead of himself.
He was internally glad that he was slowly making some 'friends' here, the rare few ones he'd made his gang back home, those who weren't hanging out with him out of 'duty'. It was a good feeling, to know that some people have your back. But it just hits him that that also means one thing: they're the people who don't know of his past.
His arm drops to his side, unable to meet her eyes now. What would she think if she knew? Does he trust her as much as she trusts him? He tries to swallow something, gulp back something, to wash over his increasingly dry throat. But even then, the words can't climb up. ]