[ Amos buries himself in his work, slow and methodical — and doing his best to ignore Gen's own feelings. Not because he doesn't appreciate them, but because he doesn't want to get his wires crossed. Time still feels far too fluid for him to be comfortable with, considering how he was just looking his child self in the eye only minutes ago, and Gen is... not someone who had been around then.
So he maybe takes longer with his arm than he needs to, giving it a full inspection, far more thorough than it actually needs. Because yeah, it's simply easier to deal with.
He's still looking down into it when he answers Gen, tone of voice still the same. Quiet, but not mincing words. Because some shit is private, until it isn't anymore — but that still doesn't mean you go around broadcasting it. ]
Thanks. For what you did for him. [ The kid was real. He was real, and Amos isn't going to stop talking about him that way. ] I wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, I tried, but...
[ He'd faltered. Gen had had to take over completely, Amos rendered useless and struck mostly dumb.
He withdraws his hand from the arm's interior, but keeps his eyes on it. Like he's looking it over for anything else he might have missed, even as he keeps talking. ]
Look, you didn't know what I do, so you could give him hope. I knew that all he had to look forward to was years of that shit. He'll be broken within one, and there won't be any stopping it. System's too well-oiled to be fought. The fuck is a five-year-old going to do against grown men? The fuck is a caretaker who's still a hooker herself going to do against the people who own them? I looked at him and knew exactly what he was going through, and that was maybe one of the better parts, because he could still fucking feel something.
[ There's a rising creep of anger in his voice as he goes on, starting to lose himself in it, before it's abruptly shut off. Amos closes his eyes, inhales deeply. Opens them again and, after a beat, finds the one last spot he missed in Gen's arm, one last thing to tighten so it doesn't come lose. Doesn't fuck with his friend again, and hopefully this'll be the last of it.
He moves to close up the panel he'd been working on, screw it shut proper, too. His voice is back to being quiet, dull — but he can't help the way his feeling soften at the edges, gratitude slipping in. ]
Goes without saying, but I'd've killed back then for what you just gave him. Fantasized about it a lot. So at least he got it for a moment.
[ He's done with the arm. Out of excuses, Amos looks up into Gen's eyes again. There's a sheen to his own, but that dam isn't going to burst. He's had his emotional meltdown; now he's done with it.
Just. ]
Thank you for giving him that.
[ Because if Gen hadn't then things would be going a whole lot worse for Amos instead. ]
cw references to child prostitution
So he maybe takes longer with his arm than he needs to, giving it a full inspection, far more thorough than it actually needs. Because yeah, it's simply easier to deal with.
He's still looking down into it when he answers Gen, tone of voice still the same. Quiet, but not mincing words. Because some shit is private, until it isn't anymore — but that still doesn't mean you go around broadcasting it. ]
Thanks. For what you did for him. [ The kid was real. He was real, and Amos isn't going to stop talking about him that way. ] I wanted to tell him it was going to be okay, I tried, but...
[ He'd faltered. Gen had had to take over completely, Amos rendered useless and struck mostly dumb.
He withdraws his hand from the arm's interior, but keeps his eyes on it. Like he's looking it over for anything else he might have missed, even as he keeps talking. ]
Look, you didn't know what I do, so you could give him hope. I knew that all he had to look forward to was years of that shit. He'll be broken within one, and there won't be any stopping it. System's too well-oiled to be fought. The fuck is a five-year-old going to do against grown men? The fuck is a caretaker who's still a hooker herself going to do against the people who own them? I looked at him and knew exactly what he was going through, and that was maybe one of the better parts, because he could still fucking feel something.
[ There's a rising creep of anger in his voice as he goes on, starting to lose himself in it, before it's abruptly shut off. Amos closes his eyes, inhales deeply. Opens them again and, after a beat, finds the one last spot he missed in Gen's arm, one last thing to tighten so it doesn't come lose. Doesn't fuck with his friend again, and hopefully this'll be the last of it.
He moves to close up the panel he'd been working on, screw it shut proper, too. His voice is back to being quiet, dull — but he can't help the way his feeling soften at the edges, gratitude slipping in. ]
Goes without saying, but I'd've killed back then for what you just gave him. Fantasized about it a lot. So at least he got it for a moment.
[ He's done with the arm. Out of excuses, Amos looks up into Gen's eyes again. There's a sheen to his own, but that dam isn't going to burst. He's had his emotional meltdown; now he's done with it.
Just. ]
Thank you for giving him that.
[ Because if Gen hadn't then things would be going a whole lot worse for Amos instead. ]