station72 | Insert Evanescence Lyrics

[He is possibly the last person here who should reply to the questions. With maybe the exception of the people like Petre, who he'd been warned about from Aoba himself. Even so the reaction is almost automatic.]

[Not as strong as it had been when Clint woke up. He goes to answer anyway -- it wasn't as if he was doing anything but an exercise routine.]

(A long time. Few days or more.)

[He hesitates, then, while doing his best to keep the mental walls of stars in place. Like Sam had done his best to teach him.]

(Are you okay?)

[ Talking to Petre after suddenly waking up would be, in some ways, more comforting than having Shiro respond right away. For one, Petre is brood, and the symbiote naturally craves contact with Adara again. For another, his last memory of the paladin is still fresh, revisited in deep but restless dreams, and the reminder of it's reality stings.

But Aoba also wants answers. While his pulse quickens at the sound of Shiro's quick reply, he's quick to block and resist the temptation to push him away. ]

That long? [ A staticky mental sigh. ] I don't know... I wonder if Scrap is actually useful to the Nest at all if I need so much time to recover after using it.

Did anything happen while I was out?

Edited 2016-12-03 09:51 (UTC)

(It might not have been you. A lot of people suddenly went down around the same time.)

[It helps if he keeps this straightforward, right? Doesn't ask any further questions. Or pressure him. Let's just talk about current events, and not the last time they saw each other.]

(Just the whole... people falling into comas thing. Also some... grand theft good intentions.)

[He drove a car full of stolen party food.]

Huh? Really...? I guess that's...

[ He's surprised, though briefly. His mind trails off without finishing the thought. It's true that hosts of the Nest go down and wake up all the time. It could be considered normal at this point, it's just... half his brood is still sleeping after so long. There's an underlying fear that he and the rest of Adara may join them at any time.

He lets out a shaky breath, anxiety tightening around his rational mind. He can't feel Angel. Aoba grips the sheets to keep his hands from shaking and focuses on what else Shiro said-

Except it doesn't make any sense. ]

Grand theft...? What good intentions?

(That's...?)

[He asks it before he can really check himself. He's curious and concerned. Those things are difficult to curb. Especially the latter feeling. It felt wrong when Clint had passed out -- still feels wrong, knowing Rey is in the same boat. So he's got to ask.]

[There's something like amusement. A stifled laugh.]

(I uh. May have helped some people steal food from the party. For charity.)

N... never mind. It's nothing.

[ It's hard to push down, but his worry for Adara is nothing he needs to bother Shiro with. Their combined anxiety helps no one... he remembers from the party. A deep breath in, a slow breath out. He imagines the sheets between his fingers as Ren's soft fur instead. It helps to block out the images of broken ice and stares, and the missing mental presence of Angel-

Despite himself, he chokes out a small laugh at Shiro's explanation. Stealing food from that rich party to give to charity. Why hadn't they all thought of it? ]

What a great idea. I wish I could've been there to help. I... don't know if I actually did anything to help at all that night.

(All right. If you're sure.)

[He debated asking more. But decided not to. This feels awkward enough already without him digging deeper. As much as he'd like to. Just to have a relatively normal conversation. And not feel like he's burned a bridge here.]

(I'm sure you were.)

[He says it with a lot of easy confidence. Because being confident for other people is easy. Assuring other people is easy.]

(You had to get something out of that confrontation.)

[ Shiro sounds so calm. It's easy to listen to him and feel calmer, even if he has so much to be worried about because of Shiro. He focuses on the memory of Saffit, of entering his mind, and breathes deep again. For now, he'll just think of the mission. Not anything else. ]

All I got was that Saffit is benefitting from someone in H+H1, but... it's useless. They're anonymous, the messages they leave are vague, and he destroys them after. He doesn't contact them, they contact him.

I can't think of a way to use something like that to the advantage of the Nest...

[He's doing his absolute best to be calm. To project nothing but assurance. That's got to be easier to take than ... well. Anything else they'd talk about. Like the party. Or how Pidge wants to interrogate him about that yellow eyed thing.]

(It could still be useful. We've got people who can trace digital transmissions better than anyone else I've ever seen.)

(So, we could probably try and follow even an anonymous message.)

[ As assuring as that is, Aoba's mood continues to slip. In his room, he curls back up on his side, pressing a hand to his head. ]

The messages are written on paper. He never finds them in the same place twice, and he always burns them after he reads them. How do we track that?

[ So much for having excellent hackers when they're dealing with archaic ways. At the edges of his mind, a headache threatens to grip him. ]

(Oh.)

[Well, now there's a tinge of embarrassment to his thoughts. He'd just thought, in a world like this, no one would even use paper.]

(Well. I'm guessing stalking him is out?)

[There's a pause.]

(Maybe you should get a little more rest, though.)

Edited 2016-12-04 07:09 (UTC)

Maybe... if it's not, Nirad might be good at that. I don't know.

[ He lets out another sigh that travels across the connection as frustrated static. Though more than frustrated, he feels defeated, useless. Shiro's suggestion is thoughtful. Helps keep his mind from being derailed by negativity, though he's not eager to take it directly. ]

I guess... but I don't want to sleep. I should take a shower and eat something... and take my medicine.

[ The sooner he picks himself up and gets back to a routine, the better. There's still work to be done, and aside from the mission... there's also personal matters to clear up. ]

After that... can we talk more? Not like this either. I... want to see you, Shiro.

(I know I'm not... entirely stealthy. A little too big for that.)

[Unless he's sneaking around a Galra ship, apparently. But even then... It tended to be hit or miss. None of them were really stealthy. Except Pidge.]

[He nods -- though whether or not that's communicated through the link is uncertain. It makes sense.]

(Sure, do what you have to. Just... don't think nothing came of what you did. There's got to be something there.)

[Because he would be a terrible leader if he didn't at least try and give a peptalk. Even if the next request throws him for a loop. As much as he does his best to contain the surprise, it leaks anyway. It's the last thing he expected to hear.]

(Yeah... yeah, sure thing.)

Edited 2016-12-04 08:38 (UTC)

[ Shiro's surprise... is it just surprise, or is it dread too? There are a lot of emotions swirling around his still tired mind regarding Shiro. It's an effort to keep them from similarly leaking outward. Their mental barriers, visions of stars and memories of remixed music, are not solid things. He struggles to hold in his anxiety, gripping at the sheets again, though one thing does slip through-

Gratitude. ]

Thanks. Can I meet you on the rooftop in a couple hours?

[ He's not even sure what time it is now, with his room so sealed off and dark. He needs a chance to get ready, and he wants to see Angel first, even if she's not responsive. ]

[It's surprise. Pure surprise. Because he'd figured they wouldn't speak again, in person. Or of anything beyond pleasantries or mission details. He's not upset by it -- just... honestly surprised.]

[The same goes for the gratitude, too.]

(That's no problem. I'm usually up there anyway.)

Alright. I'll come find you soon.

[ He withdraws from the line of connection like ending a call. It's easy to imagine it, like pressing the end button on his coil. No more emotional contact, no more stress, no more surprise. It's an effort not to feel it right now, but cutting him off so abruptly helps. Something else he'd apologize for later. ]

[He almost says he'll be there, waiting. But then it goes "dead". It's not like a comm signing offline, but the feeling of holding a dead phoneline is there all the same.]

[Well. That went well.]

[He'll be up there though, alternating between idle workout routines and taking breaks to watch the city below. What better way to kill time?]

[ Despite the not quite anger that Sam'd felt after seeing the events of the party from Shiro's mind - Sam'd been worried. He likes Aoba, more than enough to go looking for an explanation before really being angry, and he sure as hell didn't want anything bad to happen to him.

There's guilt, too, because he'd wanted to go to Saffit's fundraiser in part to prevent something like this from happening after Aoba used his ability, but it's faint. Aoba'd asked him not to, and Sam has to respect that, at least this time. And there's enough other people who've been out that Sam can't even be sure it was related.

He does his best to keep all of that back, though, and the touch of his mind against Aoba's is mostly quiet relief. ]

( Couple days. How you feeling? )

Sam-!

[ Aoba's thoughts flare and buzz, startled but happy at the familiar voice answering back. Sam and his quiet relief are a welcomed presence. ]

I'm... I feel fine, just tired. No headache... yet. I should get back on my medicine...

[ His mind wanders a bit to his last dosage, before the party, to where the bottle is and how many he has left and... he's getting side-tracked. The mission. He firmly drives his groggy thoughts back towards the mission. ]

That doesn't really matter. I found out Saffit is in contact with H+H1, but... I'm not sure if we can use him to reach them. Even to him, they're well hidden.

[ Disagreement trickles briefly through the mental link, but that, too, is muted. ]

( Sure it does. You matter, your discomfort matters, man. ) [ There's something like a sigh, not quite weary, just resigned. ] ( It's good to know, whether we can use it or not. Least we didn't raid the party of some innocent bystander, and even if he was only surface level it's good to know how many people in a position of power were involved in this. )

[ And by good he means shitty, but still. There's a moment's pause, where he considers leaving the next bit until after the mission, but honestly, he's tired of leaving shit until after the mission. ]

( When you're feeling up to it, can we talk? )

[ The faint sense of disagreement along with Sam's words are comforting. Just mildly, and while he can't bring himself to agree, Aoba feels a little better knowing someone else doesn't think the effort to infiltrate was a complete waste. ]

Thanks for saying... uh... thinking so.

[ The silence lingering between them isn't even filled with Aoba's usual musical buzzing. He's still groggy. But there's nothing like someone asking to talk in the way that Sam asks to sudden wake up. ]

Uh... sure. I just need some time to get up and dressed and all that... and there's someone I need to see, but I'll come find you in a few hours?

[ There's a hint of curiosity, an unasked question hovering between the connection. It's only natural to wonder why Sam wants to talk, but he's too courteous to ask until they see each other. That is, assuming he wants to talk in person. ]

[ Sorry, Aoba. It's been bugging Sam enough that he isn't sure how to react around Aoba without talking about it, especially because he still cares. ]

( No rush, all right, I don't want you to push yourself. I'll be around, probably in me and Clint’s room, come by whenever you want. )

[ There's a wordless impression of where the room is in the Bearings, and then Sam pulls back, giving Aoba some space. ]

[ No rush. Except just a few hours later, Aoba's made a few rounds through the other hosts, and knows he'll be going on another infiltration mission that very night with Sam. Maybe he should rush a little, and resolve whatever this is. The cloudy anxiety hovering between them like morning brain fog.

Perhaps that's why Aoba decides to make coffee first. He puts a pot on before going to see Sam, reaching out with his mind as well as his hand when he knocks on Sam's (and Clint's?) bedroom door. ]

Sam? I have some time before we go. I made coffee...

[ He waits outside the door, a full cup for himself cooling in his hands with the smell of more lingering in the kitchen should anyone want some. ]

[ There's a faint curl of affection that bleeds out from Sam, a not quite intentional response to the offer of coffee, but he doesn't try to hold it back. There's a sense of confliction in him, because he doesn't want to cause Aoba any more anxiety than he might already have, it's just...

Well, if it was someone, Sam would have already been in their face about what he saw in Shiro's mind. Instead, he pulls open the door with a brief smile, standing aside to gesture Aoba in. ]

Come on in.

[ Rey is still unconscious in the bed, lost to her coma and the steady beat of the monitors she's hooked up to. There's a nest of blankets to one side that probably makes it obvious where he and Clint have been sleeping, Clint's uniform laid out neatly over the chair next to his bow and quiver on the desk, and Sam's flight pack waiting for him at the foot of the bed. There's a moment after he nudges the door shut where he hesitates, unsure how to approach this, but then just goes for to the point. ]

I saw what happened with you and Shiro at the party.

[ The room is no larger than any of the others, so with three it's a bit cozy. He wasn't expecting to see Rey taking up the bed, since a comatose host normally stays in their own space. But then... if she's brood, it doesn't take much to understand why Sam would want her near. If he could have the rest of Adara so close, he would too. His face falls when he steps inside and sees her. ]

Is she... ?

[ But Sam cuts straight to the topic. The main reason he wanted to talk is... that? Aoba is briefly surprised before his expression falls again with the recent memory. ]

Oh. Yeah... I think most people there saw what happened. There was a lot of staring...

[ It's not a fond memory to go back to so soon. The feeling of shock and humiliation from Shiro's yelling are still recent - accepted, understood, and forgiven, but no less painful to recall. He twists the mug of too-hot coffee in his hands, swirling it but not drinking. ]

I... already thanked him for how he helped me. I really messed up.

[ There's a mental response, rather than a verbal - the sense of uncertainty, a low level of concern, a vague undercurrent of helplessness. She'd fallen asleep the same time that Clint had, but when he'd returned, she'd stayed under. She's not brood, or at least not Sam's, but she's Clint's, and so here she is.

He can do nothing but monitor her for the moment, though, and his focus is on Aoba, shifting uncomfortably at his response. Sam hadn't actually seen it when it happened, just in Shiro's mind, but he hadn't wanted to throw Shiro under the bus like that. There's still the urge to sooth, to try to comfort in the face of bringing up a painful memory, but it's cut with the anger that Sam hasn't let bubble up yet.

It'd be so much easier if he could just cross his arms and go 'what is it, that we're both men or that we're not the same race?' Except he can't, because neither of those are things he wants to think about Aoba. ]

Depends on why you think you messed up. Kind of an extreme reaction to have, for what it was.

[ His anger must be deeply hidden. If not, Aoba would be in a panic. For now, he just nods in guilty agreement. ]

Yes... i-it was an accident, though. I was just caught off guard by... I guess you already know.

[ Of course he'd know. Shiro could have replayed the scene for him all too easily through the symbiote connection. As if every stranger in the ballroom staring at them hadn't been bad enough, as if apologizing and admitting this to Shiro already wasn't enough either, now this- now he has to admit it again. ]

I'm sorry, Sam. I-it's just... I don't really let myself to have those kind of thoughts so freely- ah!

[ A few droplets of coffee splash over the brim and burn his skin. He hadn't realized his hands are shaking. ]

[ It'd been too much like jumping to conclusions without all the answers, which Sam hadn't wanted to do with Aoba. He'd refused to let himself feel anger until he'd known if there was a reason or not, and he's pretty damn good at bottling for all that he tries not to.

And it turns out it was a good thing, because Aoba's reaction strips out any anger he might have had, anyway - Sam's going with his first assumption, before he saw the events of the party. That Aoba's pretty much in the closet.

He reaches out, wrapping his hands over Aoba's around the mug to steady them and brushing the drops of coffee away with his thumb. It's a faint struggle to hold back his symbiote ability from healing the burns, but it's brief, and he manages it with little trouble. At least all his practice has been good for something. ]

It's like that where I'm from, too. Not everywhere, but there's a lot of places where it's a bad idea. Most of my life's been like that.

[ The trembling in his hands eases as Sam's fingers slide over his skin to hold them, and for a moment, Aoba's focus is lost. Sam's are strong and steady hands. They remind him of Koujaku's, with their smattering of scars across the knuckles, but still large and capable. He'd felt himself growing attracted to those hands once or a dozen times, whenever he watched his friend smoking on the balcony of his bedroom. And a dozen times, he smothered the idea.

The memory is shared unconsciously. A man in a red kimono breathes smoke out into the night air. He turns to look at Aoba with a grin, and for a second there's the a shock of fear like he's been caught admiring his friend. So instead of allowing the feeling to flourish, he squashes it with firm reminder that he's just being weird, that it's not a normal feeling. He throws out a casual joke instead, a teasing insult...

What's more is the man looks strikingly similar to Shiro, with the same kind of scar across his nose. He'd loved that scar too, but- ]

No, not love, I'm not-

[ He takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes tightly. Exhales slowly as he comes back to the present, finally hearing Sam's words. ]

S-sorry. It's... yeah, it's not normal to have these thoughts, where I'm from. I know it's okay here, but... I'm afraid of others hearing them.

[ Somehow, it's still always a surprise when he picks up little snippets of memories from other people, despite the fact that it's happened before both intentionally and unintentionally. He's still not used to it.

Surprise or not, it gives him a little more understanding into Aoba's reaction - and maybe why it'd happened with Shiro in particular, though that's not somewhere Sam's going to go. He doesn't call attention to the memory itself, because he knows Aoba hadn't meant to share it and it's not like he's gonna pry more.

But he doesn't move his hands from Aoba's and it's a little more than making sure the mug doesn't spill again. It's just support, calm and steady. ]

You are normal, Aoba. There is nothing wrong with you.

[ It's not like he expects Aoba to get more comfortable or less afraid with it just because Sam said that, it's just... far as Sam's concerned, words like that can never be said enough for those who've been taught that who and what they are isn't okay. ]

[ Sam's words are more soothing than the warmth of his hands and the full mug of coffee combined. They reverberate over his mind with a sense of relief and an aching desire to believe in them. It's exactly what Aoba wants to hear, so much that at first, it hurts. His heart jumps to his throat and tightens there. Instead of breathing deeply, he holds his chest still. If he speaks now, just after hearing that, he'll break down. ]

That's... all I ever wanted to be.

[ A mental answer is all he can manage for now. That, and remembering to put up his mental walls again. It's a struggle to shield Sam from his overwhelming mixture of emotions when his walls, being made of static and music, jitter as nervously as his hands start to again. He should put the mug down, before he does something else clumsy and spills it on them both, but he's frozen. ]

[ Sam breathes, in and out, letting anything that escapes Aoba's mental walls wash over him. It's easier than the times he's done something like this with Bucky. Whether it's because Bucky's a broodmate or because it's mostly been the times the Winter Soldier threatened to take over, Sam doesn't know, but it means he can open up his own mind a little.

Just enough to let his sincerity out, the firm conviction that Sam believes - you are amazing exactly as you are - mingled with the quiet rush of wind and the echo of a steady heart beat that flavors Sam's mental link.

When it's clear that Aoba's a little too frozen, Sam takes the mug from his hands. And then sets it aside before gently pulling Aoba in for a hug, hands warm and low on his back and voice a murmur as he repeats himself. ]

You are normal, just the way you are.

[ He thought he had resolved this with Shiro. He thanked Shiro for protecting him at the party, apologized for the way he acted and the commotion caused, and even admitted his deep desire to think as freely. They had both been able to move on so much more easily.

But Sam has cut down to his core and revealed the root of his anxiety, and Aoba is left to piece himself back together in the face of more acceptance than he's ever experienced. So much, he doesn't know what to do or how to feel. The obstruction of the coffee is removed, and before he can hold back, his eyes are wet and pressed against the shoulder of Sam's sleeve. His throat is still tight but he remembers to breathe, slowly. Something is tugging at him painfully, but the emotional high is making it difficult to rationalize. He hates crying in front of others - especially in front of men. He hasn't since Koujaku encouraged him not to when they were kids, after he'd been called a girl and had his hair pulled-

Ah, his hair. That's what's hurting in this entanglement with Sam. He'd been too emotional to notice, but now that he's calming down, the pain is fresh in the endings of his hair. He sucks in a breath and pulls back a bit. ]

Tch- ah, Sam, my hair-

[ The feeling grounds him again. He quickly wipes his eyes so he can see again, and carefully pulls his hair out of the way. ]

S-sorry. I have... nerve endings in my hair, so it hurts when it's touched.

[ A shuddered sigh, followed by a soft intake and a weak chuckle. After all this, after hearing what he so wanted to hear about his thoughts and desires, there are still parts of him that are so far from ordinary. ]

Heh. So much for being normal...

[ He chuckles mentally over the connection as well, although... it's not as nervous as his voice is, and not as controlled. The soft laugh emerges from some part of his mind he wasn't thinking of. He just shrugs and continues to dry his eyes, gently avoiding any more contact with Sam, afraid he'll break down again. ]

[ Honestly, Sam's more than ready to just stand here with Aoba in his arms for however long it takes. He's no stranger to thinking you've got something settled and done with only to find there's something deeper going on, and having it come back to haunt you. He radiates calm, best he can, murmurs you're okay, but before he can tell Aoba to take as long as he needs, Aoba's pulling away.

With one of the few excuses that'd actually make Sam let go, which he does with an apology and all right, yeah, definitely some curiosity. Though that fades a little at what Aoba says.

There are other things about Aoba that'd give Sam pause before something like hair with nerve endings - the golden eyed version of him that seems to hate Sam, for one, but Sam is still treading lightly there. And anyway, maybe it means Sam's definition of normal is a little askew, but it doesn't change anything that he'd just said. ]

Did I not just say 'just the way you are'? Hasn't stopped being true.

[ And he's just as sincere in that. What he really wants to do is pull Aoba back in again, only this time being more careful of his hair, but he can tell that Aoba's avoiding contact with him. He settles for letting all of that bleed out over the mental link. ]

It's okay to cry, you know. No one here but you and me, and I sure as hell ain't gonna judge. Usually made me feel a little better, letting it out.

[ He appreciates the calm demeanor and the sincerity radiating from Sam, but Aoba can't help feeling a bit embarrassed for crying. It's still in his nature, engrained firmly into him. He lets his temper flare from time to time in front of others, but never sheds tears. He nods once his face is dry again and finally looks up with a genuine smile, his eyes rimmed with more redness than usual but happier than before. ]

Thanks for saying so.

[ His face relaxes again as he breathes in deep, and exhales slowly. Something Ren would've told him to do were he still at Aoba's side, always reminding him to remain calm. ]

I'm alright. We have a mission to focus on soon, so...

[ So he can't be so emotional or focused on himself. Not right now. Reflection on what he's admitted and Sam's acceptance can come later. For now, they have to worry about the will of the Nest. ]

I have to keep a clear head in case I need to use Scrap again.

[ Sam echoes that deep breath, in and out, and he spends a last few moments continuing to radiate calm before he pulls back, lifting up his mental walls again. ]

Duty calls.

[ Still, he reaches out to rest a hand on Aoba's shoulder, careful of his hair, and give it a soft squeeze. ] You ever want to talk to someone who might know a little about what it's like, I'm always here. [ It's a little different circumstances than when he usually offers this kind of thing - Aoba isn't one of his veterans from back home, but this is still something difficult they have in common, and Sam can't help but see it as something similar. ]

Let's get back down there, before they decide to leave without us?

Yes.

[ He nods once with the statement, but then... he hesitates to leave. His emotions are still so mixed, what with all he just admitted. They should get going, like he said. The others probably won't leave this early without them, but-

Before Aoba turns to go, he suddenly reaches for Sam and wraps him in his arms, his eyes shut tight against his shoulder again. It's... a little awkward, but warm and sincere. He holds for a few seconds, desperate to ingrain the moment in his memory. His heart is beating fast in his chest. He lets go again before it threatens to burst. ]

Thank you.

[ It's whispered aloud, but rings clear across their symbiotes. He then hastily picks up his coffee again, a bit red in the face but smiling as he turns for the door. ]

[ Sup buddy. Who cares about your question, Petre just figures he might as well report something important to the brood. ]

( Angel's asleep. )

[ He's received answers already, so he hardly seems to mind. Especially when Petre comes bearing news like that. ]

What? Again?

[ He realizes a second later he shouldn't be or sound judgemental, not with the way he drops in and out of consciousness too. ]

N... never mind. Are you alright?

[ The concern behind the question is genuine. Petre's been without any brood for at least a couple of days. ]

[ It should not surprise him that Aoba would ask, but their history together hasn't made them as close as Angel would have liked. In her absence they are the only ones left, though. He guesses they ought to follow through with her wish, to have each other's backs.

Petulantly, he answers. ]

( No. I didn't ant to be alone. Then you both fucking left me. )

[ The accusation presses into him like a needle. He lets the words settle into his mind with a sting, the pain oddly welcomed. Their brood is so small now, and being left alone even for a short while undoubtedly hurt Petre more. ]

I'm sorry. I never meant to... I'm sure no one in our brood meant to.

[ Their states of mind are so beyond their control now with the symbiote attached, it hardly makes sense to apologize for it. But if it helps even a little, he'll apologize again. ]

I'm almost afraid to ask, but... what kind of sleep does it feel like to you?

[ Because if it's the same kind he's feeling... no, he doesn't want to dwell on it, but he'll let Petre confirm it. ]

[ The question makes his thoughts twitch uncomfortably, grabbing Blue's link my the throat. He doesn't want to answer, he doesn't want to answer. He doesn't want to answer. ]

( It feels like she's gone. )

[ His heart, if he has one, sinks. ]

No. No, no, no...

[ It's not so much a thought as it is a repeated feeling. A stubborn refusal to believe, though the empty void Angel has left behind is already proof. He thought Petre confirming it would be an acceptance, but he's diving headfirst into denial. ]

She's... she's felt far away before. I'm sure she'll...

[ He has to believe that she'll come back. Otherwise, he's trapped in his own mind with the member of Adara who has always frightened him the most. ]

I... need to go get some air.

( So, what, you're gonna leave me now too? )

[ It angers him, because he's a selfish little shit, that Aoba would grieve about Angel being gone too. He still thinks she was his more than she was Aoba's, despite all of them being in the same brood. ]

What? No, I-...

[ He just needs to go outside, though Petre finds something unrelated to accuse him of.

His denial quickly flares to anger, temper beginning to smoke and smolder. Angel isn't here to stamp it out this time. There's an effort beneath his mental voice to keep it calm, level- ]

I can't exactly do that, so... if you're worrying, don't. I've been asleep for a while too, I just need some fresh air.

[ Despite the forced calm, his tone and mood imply his desire to be alone. He needs to grieve in his own way, whether Petre likes it or not, whether he believes it or not.

Perhaps they could cope faster if they allowed themselves to grieve together, but... part of Aoba's denial is rejecting this idea too. ]

( I'm not - I'm not worried. )

[ An annoyed protest. ]

Good.

[ It's a quick comeback, not very thought out and childish. A stray ember leftover from the flare of his temper. ]

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