[It's not a fair accusation, and Adrian knows it, but it's been said before he could think otherwise. It's hard to think clearly at all when he's this pissed off...and it isn't even at Rosso, not really. He isn't even sure, entirely, what it is that holds most of his ire. This woman who came for him has a lot of it, certainly, but that's not all, is it? Anger at the unfairness of it all, maybe. Even if you come back here, death isn't free. Die enough times, and you start to lose yourself.

And maybe that's the scariest thing of all. The only thing Adrian has ever had that couldn't be stolen from him was...who he was. He has to imagine that Rosso feels the same way, at least to some degree.

He does back off a little, though. It's just sunk in that he's been screaming, Rosso's been screaming, they've kindof just been shouting at each other. Rosso doesn't really need to be yelled at, as if dying was his fault or something. He bristles still, all of the fur on his mane and shoulders having risen to the point where he looks like he's doubled in size...but he does make a concentrated effort to wait before he speaks. To actually let himself calm down for half a second, first.]

...I ain't tryin' to say what happened is your fault. I didn't mean that, I'm sorry.

[Sorry. Adrian would have never, months ago.]

I just. ...I wasn't there. I was with you...why wasn't I fuckin' there then.

[Maybe, if they'd stuck together, this wouldn't have happened. Or, at the very least, Rosso would have stood more of a fighting chance not being alone. But Adrian, being Adrian, went off by himself to go do god knows what. It's almost funny, how sticking together spelled disaster with Hanna, and now...it's the opposite.]