[ It doesn't surprise him to get a non-answer grunt in return for his question. Locus has always been quiet. Half the time, Felix has to talk more than he might usually just to fill his share of the silence. But it does remind him that he's falling into old patterns, old habits and expectations. They're not okay. They may never be okay. And pretending that they are is stupid.
For all he knows, it will get him killed a second time.
So he shakes it off, tells himself that concern for Locus isn't necessary or wise. They aren't partners anymore. Whether he lives or dies isn't Felix's responsibility or business. Focus on the task at hand. Get out of the combat zone. Get this shit off his armor. Go back to safety and take a fucking shower. These are his priorities. Nothing else matters. ]
Then let's go.
[ He's already moving toward the west, his steps surer now that he can see where the hell he's going. Something niggles at his mind, however, and after a moment's silence, he realizes that he can't talk himself out of asking. He wants to know; it's what he died for, after all. ]
I don't get it. Isn't this—[ He waves a bloody hand, not indicating the specific scenario occurring around them so much as the general idea of helping others. ]—what you want to do now? Help people?
[ It could be sarcastic, but it isn't. His voice comes out sounding exactly how he feels: confused and trying to make sense of something that doesn't seem to be making any. ]
no subject
For all he knows, it will get him killed a second time.
So he shakes it off, tells himself that concern for Locus isn't necessary or wise. They aren't partners anymore. Whether he lives or dies isn't Felix's responsibility or business. Focus on the task at hand. Get out of the combat zone. Get this shit off his armor. Go back to safety and take a fucking shower. These are his priorities. Nothing else matters. ]
Then let's go.
[ He's already moving toward the west, his steps surer now that he can see where the hell he's going. Something niggles at his mind, however, and after a moment's silence, he realizes that he can't talk himself out of asking. He wants to know; it's what he died for, after all. ]
I don't get it. Isn't this—[ He waves a bloody hand, not indicating the specific scenario occurring around them so much as the general idea of helping others. ]—what you want to do now? Help people?
[ It could be sarcastic, but it isn't. His voice comes out sounding exactly how he feels: confused and trying to make sense of something that doesn't seem to be making any. ]