[ He lets her lean on him, and leans back to press against her where she buries her face in his shoulder. Their mental connection is restored, but there's something about physical closeness that seems to please the symbiote too. It doesn't matter to Aoba if it's artificial right now, and besides that, he's genuinely glad she's alright. Maybe even starting to feel better, with the gentle memories his mental stream feeds her-
At least, until they're cut short. Like a rolling film reel sliced in the middle of playing. A headache fires up within him, hot with... something to do with Angel's mention of the Bout it Out matches. Hosts got to go? Got to get close to the fan favorite by what, fighting him? Why does he feel jealous about that?
Aoba cringes. He doesn't want Angel to have felt any of that - the pain, his odd string of emotions that went along with it, even the strange feeling of something lurching and struggling to be free from back of his mind. But they were quite close when it happened, and he can't pull away fast enough. ]
S-sorry! O-ow...
[ He sits up straighter, head bowed, one hand pressed against his forehead. The stab of pain subsides to a dull throb, settling there. He'd need to get up and find his medicine, an image of the bottle in his room floating across his mind. ]
Sorry Angel. I... I'm fine. I was listening, I just... I don't know where that came from.
no subject
At least, until they're cut short. Like a rolling film reel sliced in the middle of playing. A headache fires up within him, hot with... something to do with Angel's mention of the Bout it Out matches. Hosts got to go? Got to get close to the fan favorite by what, fighting him? Why does he feel jealous about that?
Aoba cringes. He doesn't want Angel to have felt any of that - the pain, his odd string of emotions that went along with it, even the strange feeling of something lurching and struggling to be free from back of his mind. But they were quite close when it happened, and he can't pull away fast enough. ]
S-sorry! O-ow...
[ He sits up straighter, head bowed, one hand pressed against his forehead. The stab of pain subsides to a dull throb, settling there. He'd need to get up and find his medicine, an image of the bottle in his room floating across his mind. ]
Sorry Angel. I... I'm fine. I was listening, I just... I don't know where that came from.