"You think they're gonna.." He starts, but he starts too quickly, wasting his breath on a few words rather than portioning it better. He pauses until Punchy sets him down, noting how remarkably uncomfortable it probably is in here for him.
"--Think they're gonna just let you ollie past without them?" His voice is a measured kind of quiet now, like he's being discreet and not legitimately struggling through words. "One does not simply walk out of an Arena and all." He adds, unable to be completely serious without adding at least a little sarcasm to it all.
He doesn't know what to do either, because he knows how he feels right now. He's died enough to know when an injury is going to fuck him up long term, and just the mere thought of that and walking out of the Arena has him wondering whether he'll be reset or not. The hand on his hair comes at the right time, a soothing action that contrasts the sinking feeling he's getting. He's too tired to find it weird and too sympathetic to Punchy's worry to haze him for it. He just quirks a brow at him, dull eyes peering up curiously.
"Everywhere." He says vaguely, trying to wave Punchy off without lifting his arm too much. It's fiddly to really expose where the wounds are when he's wearing overalls, so he gestures vaguely at his chest and stomach before flourishing his hand downward as if to really drive home the fact that everything is a problem.
"Look." He brings himself to say, finally, the word escaping before he's thought about the follow through. "I'm a stone cold traitor, that's gotta be worth. What. A few tickets?" His voice is careful, he's forcing himself to get it all out before Punchy can object. "Just take it. Even if I make it over- it's not gonna be pretty. I'll bleed all over everything, nobody likes that." Words are escaping faster now, trailing off into quiet mumbling as he loses conviction. "I don't want to harsh your buzz, believe me. It just is what it is." There's a quiver in his voice now, it's harder to put on a face for the pain when it's almost all he can focus on. He doesn't want to cry, but his eyes are fogging anyway and the fact that he feels like a sucker for doing it isn't making them any drier.
no subject
"--Think they're gonna just let you ollie past without them?" His voice is a measured kind of quiet now, like he's being discreet and not legitimately struggling through words. "One does not simply walk out of an Arena and all." He adds, unable to be completely serious without adding at least a little sarcasm to it all.
He doesn't know what to do either, because he knows how he feels right now. He's died enough to know when an injury is going to fuck him up long term, and just the mere thought of that and walking out of the Arena has him wondering whether he'll be reset or not. The hand on his hair comes at the right time, a soothing action that contrasts the sinking feeling he's getting. He's too tired to find it weird and too sympathetic to Punchy's worry to haze him for it. He just quirks a brow at him, dull eyes peering up curiously.
"Everywhere." He says vaguely, trying to wave Punchy off without lifting his arm too much. It's fiddly to really expose where the wounds are when he's wearing overalls, so he gestures vaguely at his chest and stomach before flourishing his hand downward as if to really drive home the fact that everything is a problem.
"Look." He brings himself to say, finally, the word escaping before he's thought about the follow through. "I'm a stone cold traitor, that's gotta be worth. What. A few tickets?" His voice is careful, he's forcing himself to get it all out before Punchy can object. "Just take it. Even if I make it over- it's not gonna be pretty. I'll bleed all over everything, nobody likes that." Words are escaping faster now, trailing off into quiet mumbling as he loses conviction. "I don't want to harsh your buzz, believe me. It just is what it is." There's a quiver in his voice now, it's harder to put on a face for the pain when it's almost all he can focus on. He doesn't want to cry, but his eyes are fogging anyway and the fact that he feels like a sucker for doing it isn't making them any drier.