[But. He wasn't going to tell him NOT to, either. He just has to trust that Rosso knows better than to go out there and get himself killed. Vash...could still be frenzying, he has no idea. And if that's true...then Rosso could be in some real danger if he isn't careful.
Then again, Adrian knows that half of the reason Vash got him is because he was so reluctant to use his fire in the middle of the woods. If he were to really cut-loose, he could have set all of Lager on fire...and what if it spread to home? Beyond? Maybe one of the first times he's not been selfish in a moment like that, but there's always a first for everything. Then, as soon as he got his hands on his wing....
Well. He really, really doesn't want to think about that right now, so he won't. He'll let the nightmares do their thing all on their own.
But, right. Being alive. He can do that much, he thinks. His tail curves against Rosso's side, figners kneading against his skin a bit reflexively until his eyes fall closed again. He can feel a heavy blanket finally trying its level-best to settle over him, and he's worried it will if he doesn't keep talking.]
M....tired.
[He is so fucking tired. Having your energy drained leaves you feeling weak like no other, he really can't explain it. Like that whole-body exhaustion when you go swimming, but pretend he went swimming in pudding or quicksand instead.]
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[But. He wasn't going to tell him NOT to, either. He just has to trust that Rosso knows better than to go out there and get himself killed. Vash...could still be frenzying, he has no idea. And if that's true...then Rosso could be in some real danger if he isn't careful.
Then again, Adrian knows that half of the reason Vash got him is because he was so reluctant to use his fire in the middle of the woods. If he were to really cut-loose, he could have set all of Lager on fire...and what if it spread to home? Beyond? Maybe one of the first times he's not been selfish in a moment like that, but there's always a first for everything. Then, as soon as he got his hands on his wing....
Well. He really, really doesn't want to think about that right now, so he won't. He'll let the nightmares do their thing all on their own.
But, right. Being alive. He can do that much, he thinks. His tail curves against Rosso's side, figners kneading against his skin a bit reflexively until his eyes fall closed again. He can feel a heavy blanket finally trying its level-best to settle over him, and he's worried it will if he doesn't keep talking.]
M....tired.
[He is so fucking tired. Having your energy drained leaves you feeling weak like no other, he really can't explain it. Like that whole-body exhaustion when you go swimming, but pretend he went swimming in pudding or quicksand instead.]