Yeah, I bet there's a you walking around in a slightly different world who has a huge problem.
"Heeeeeeeeeeey," comes out defensively at that, if with humour, throwing Inigo a look accompanied with a low smirk. But rude bro?? Let's not make jokes like that!
But he's careful otherwise, knowing that what Inigo's doing now, it's difficult. It's private. There's little for him to say, and he doesn't want to baby the guy by repeating that he's fine, he'll be okay, there's nothing to worry about. That just has the chance of making it worse. Inigo's confidence is--as Tidus has been finding out--a scar still raw.
A scar worse than those any of the ones he sees exposed once the shirt finally comes off, but it's true too that there's a collection. It reminds him of his father, littered with them, covering from his face to his toes. For a second, the connection softens him; makes him think about his father's journey through Spira; makes him think about Inigo's life in his own world. Different lives. Different battlefields. The same markings of fighters in their journeys.
"See? Nothing to it." Without a change in his tone or unsettled note, Tidus picks up the towel he brought with him, not sure if he'll need it or not; deposits it again when he figures it'll be better for when they get out. "You wanna finish changing and I'll go ahead?
They're resuming, continuing where they left off. Tidus looking at Inigo by the face, waiting on an answer with his body turned towards the way out.
no subject
"Heeeeeeeeeeey," comes out defensively at that, if with humour, throwing Inigo a look accompanied with a low smirk. But rude bro?? Let's not make jokes like that!
But he's careful otherwise, knowing that what Inigo's doing now, it's difficult. It's private. There's little for him to say, and he doesn't want to baby the guy by repeating that he's fine, he'll be okay, there's nothing to worry about. That just has the chance of making it worse. Inigo's confidence is--as Tidus has been finding out--a scar still raw.
A scar worse than those any of the ones he sees exposed once the shirt finally comes off, but it's true too that there's a collection. It reminds him of his father, littered with them, covering from his face to his toes. For a second, the connection softens him; makes him think about his father's journey through Spira; makes him think about Inigo's life in his own world. Different lives. Different battlefields. The same markings of fighters in their journeys.
"See? Nothing to it." Without a change in his tone or unsettled note, Tidus picks up the towel he brought with him, not sure if he'll need it or not; deposits it again when he figures it'll be better for when they get out. "You wanna finish changing and I'll go ahead?
They're resuming, continuing where they left off. Tidus looking at Inigo by the face, waiting on an answer with his body turned towards the way out.