[ They're in agreement on at least one thing: this doesn't feel like it did with the dryad. That had been a chaotic, desperate environment; them being played with, at the mercy of some other force until they'd had the chance to fight back. This? This was downright serene. A pocket of peace that his five-year-old self no doubt loved for the moment when he was here, when he had it.
Because Amos can't accept that that wasn't some version of him. Can't accept that it was just plant fuckery again. It doesn't change anything about him, but he needs — needs — that kid to have had that moment.
He's staring out at nothing when he hears Gen come up from behind him. Turns his head slowly to look over his shoulder, confirm it is indeed him as he moves to sit down on the bench. As he tries to figure out where Amos is at, as if Amos even knows for himself. And that concern is... he can't tell if it's so foreign to be disconcerting, or if he wants to fall into it.
After a moment, Amos turns to sit on the bench, his toolbox between them. As he opens it up, gestures for Gen to hold his arm out to him. They're both here so they might as well do this, right?
And with his head still down, looking through his box's contents, voice dull, quiet, but clear, ] You can ask me anything you want. I'll tell you.
[ He trusts him. He's numb, confused, upset, but he has a lifeline right next to him — so yeah, Gen can ask him whatever's on his mind, and he'll answer. ]
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Because Amos can't accept that that wasn't some version of him. Can't accept that it was just plant fuckery again. It doesn't change anything about him, but he needs — needs — that kid to have had that moment.
He's staring out at nothing when he hears Gen come up from behind him. Turns his head slowly to look over his shoulder, confirm it is indeed him as he moves to sit down on the bench. As he tries to figure out where Amos is at, as if Amos even knows for himself. And that concern is... he can't tell if it's so foreign to be disconcerting, or if he wants to fall into it.
After a moment, Amos turns to sit on the bench, his toolbox between them. As he opens it up, gestures for Gen to hold his arm out to him. They're both here so they might as well do this, right?
And with his head still down, looking through his box's contents, voice dull, quiet, but clear, ] You can ask me anything you want. I'll tell you.
[ He trusts him. He's numb, confused, upset, but he has a lifeline right next to him — so yeah, Gen can ask him whatever's on his mind, and he'll answer. ]