[ His sympathy's nearly as tangible as the fear. It's hard to look at the table and the tools because of what they did to her — and because of what he did, a disorienting loop.
Is she afraid of him? He can't separate that look from the fear soaking the room, and his gaze drops at the question. There's a lurch of panic with it, like a violent twist of vertigo that hits before it's covered up, muffled. He can't escape his emotions, but it isn't like he's a stranger to them. He just has to focus, keep them under control. ]
I didn't— [ Denial and guilt. His heart's not in it, and he makes himself look at her before he continues. ] I killed people. His name was Lincoln Campbell. He was a— friend.
[ A test subject. His sentences are halting, conflicted and something else. Solid, blank walls before his thoughts are rerouted. The pause before his next words is more intentional, earnest and pointed. ] But I'm no threat. Not to you.
[ He isn't. He doesn't mean to be. He's telling the truth, she'll be able to feel that; it's just tainted by self doubt. ]
no subject
Is she afraid of him? He can't separate that look from the fear soaking the room, and his gaze drops at the question. There's a lurch of panic with it, like a violent twist of vertigo that hits before it's covered up, muffled. He can't escape his emotions, but it isn't like he's a stranger to them. He just has to focus, keep them under control. ]
I didn't— [ Denial and guilt. His heart's not in it, and he makes himself look at her before he continues. ] I killed people. His name was Lincoln Campbell. He was a— friend.
[ A test subject. His sentences are halting, conflicted and something else. Solid, blank walls before his thoughts are rerouted. The pause before his next words is more intentional, earnest and pointed. ] But I'm no threat. Not to you.
[ He isn't. He doesn't mean to be. He's telling the truth, she'll be able to feel that; it's just tainted by self doubt. ]