[yeah, he knows that. If it was a month ago, a week ago, he'd dismiss her claims of multiple deaths as complete nonsense, but now it's painful reality he knows he's facing. he'd been slapped upside the head with enough memories to understand that now.
what the hell was he supposed to say? moving forward in the face of a harsh reality was something he's lived by, but that was back in a world where he didn't have to accept the threat of death as a daily reality, or that he had to live his life by the whims of a unseen and completely inhuman organization. this wasn't some whiny kid yapping on about how hard practice was or that her parents weren't being fair, this was a girl who fucking died more than one time, and knowing this place none of those times were peacefully.
he isn't cynical or hardened by the city enough to get angry about her acceptance of inevitable death, but he isn't content to stay silent and accept it either. this is more or less a stranger, he shouldn't care about her. wasn't doing exactly that what got you killed in those cheesy end-of-the-world movies he used to snort and snark at with the rest of his team?
if only it was a movie. maybe it's fortunate that he isn't cynical nor hardened enough because he finds himself actually- sort of- kind of- caring.]
Don't say shit like that. [it's really the best he can do, the best he can say without feeling like he's spouting bullshit.]
So what if you died before? None of that means a goddamn thing now. It's in the past- it's not going to affect your chances now unless you let it.
[it's not "everything will be alright" or something similarly useless, but it still feels... hollow to say it.]
You've only got one life now, so don't give up on it that easily. [he frowns more deeply, letting himself get a little more frustrated.] Are you that willing to accept that you're going to die here? [a discontent click of his tongue.] Doesn't your life mean more to you than that?
[he doesn't want to imagine getting to that point, even from just hearing a "yes".]
no subject
what the hell was he supposed to say? moving forward in the face of a harsh reality was something he's lived by, but that was back in a world where he didn't have to accept the threat of death as a daily reality, or that he had to live his life by the whims of a unseen and completely inhuman organization. this wasn't some whiny kid yapping on about how hard practice was or that her parents weren't being fair, this was a girl who fucking died more than one time, and knowing this place none of those times were peacefully.
he isn't cynical or hardened by the city enough to get angry about her acceptance of inevitable death, but he isn't content to stay silent and accept it either. this is more or less a stranger, he shouldn't care about her. wasn't doing exactly that what got you killed in those cheesy end-of-the-world movies he used to snort and snark at with the rest of his team?
if only it was a movie. maybe it's fortunate that he isn't cynical nor hardened enough because he finds himself actually- sort of- kind of- caring.]
Don't say shit like that. [it's really the best he can do, the best he can say without feeling like he's spouting bullshit.]
So what if you died before? None of that means a goddamn thing now. It's in the past- it's not going to affect your chances now unless you let it.
[it's not "everything will be alright" or something similarly useless, but it still feels... hollow to say it.]
You've only got one life now, so don't give up on it that easily. [he frowns more deeply, letting himself get a little more frustrated.] Are you that willing to accept that you're going to die here? [a discontent click of his tongue.] Doesn't your life mean more to you than that?
[he doesn't want to imagine getting to that point, even from just hearing a "yes".]