[ His eyes flick to Cassian's hand on his shoulder without so much as moving his head, a living statue. An acknowledgment, because whatever pain the entire situation had brought him is stuffed deep down along with the rest. It isn't his place to feel it. He doesn't want to feel it, so he doesn't.
And then they look right back into Cassian's again as he speaks. And yeah, he can appreciate that. He's right. Amos made the shitty choice because he was the only one who could, and he's used to it, so what is he doing being the one comforted?
He doesn't break Cassian's gaze when he pats his shoulder, lets go. When Amos brings his own hand up to mimic the gesture, something about the movement automatic, artificial (a pretend human learning by copying a real one), and yet still sincere (he means everything Cassian did). Look unflinchingly at him when he opens his mouth to speak again, open and honest and needing him to listen. Really, really needing him to listen, because for as buried as things are for Amos, they're still there, still real, and impacts on one's being are impacts, whether they're decades-old craters or minutes-old grazes. ]
There's still a way to get her back. Not like it was in there, but for real. No tricks, no bullshit. [ He means this as much as he has meant anything, voice hard as if to punctuate it, nothing more. ] Yima can get her shard for you. She's done that for a lot of people here. It might not be her the way you'd think of her, but at least you'd have her soul. You could protect her until she's ready to be here proper. Bring her with you to the new world once it's done.
[ It sounds stupid; he knows that.
And yet it's real, and he knows that, too. Cassian just needs to come with him.
His hand stays on his shoulder, able to be shrugged off at any time — though Amos hopes it won't be. That Cassian believes him. That he at least gets something out of this. ]
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And then they look right back into Cassian's again as he speaks. And yeah, he can appreciate that. He's right. Amos made the shitty choice because he was the only one who could, and he's used to it, so what is he doing being the one comforted?
He doesn't break Cassian's gaze when he pats his shoulder, lets go. When Amos brings his own hand up to mimic the gesture, something about the movement automatic, artificial (a pretend human learning by copying a real one), and yet still sincere (he means everything Cassian did). Look unflinchingly at him when he opens his mouth to speak again, open and honest and needing him to listen. Really, really needing him to listen, because for as buried as things are for Amos, they're still there, still real, and impacts on one's being are impacts, whether they're decades-old craters or minutes-old grazes. ]
There's still a way to get her back. Not like it was in there, but for real. No tricks, no bullshit. [ He means this as much as he has meant anything, voice hard as if to punctuate it, nothing more. ] Yima can get her shard for you. She's done that for a lot of people here. It might not be her the way you'd think of her, but at least you'd have her soul. You could protect her until she's ready to be here proper. Bring her with you to the new world once it's done.
[ It sounds stupid; he knows that.
And yet it's real, and he knows that, too. Cassian just needs to come with him.
His hand stays on his shoulder, able to be shrugged off at any time — though Amos hopes it won't be. That Cassian believes him. That he at least gets something out of this. ]