[ He'd die before admitting it, but he does feel shiver of something cold down his spine when Makoto gains that new light in his eyes. Because for all his bluster, all of the changes he's been through, all the experiences he's been forced to live in these strange worlds, Gen has never forgotten that he was only human to start with. A puny, weak, normal human being thrown in amongst superhuman beings and gods ...
and demons.
Beings that he never should have provoked.
That revelation has him frozen for a moment, his next breath coming hoarser past the tightness in his throat; though Gen's expression remains firmly fixed in that look of condescension, the fine hairs on his ears and the back of his neck are standing on end. It's only when he feels the drag of fingers against the high neck of his shirt, drifting just a little too close to where his shard lies, that he snaps back to his senses and jerks his head away from that touch. ]
... what, were you just faking it? Pretending not to recognize me in hopes I'd let you go? [ Even as he says it, he knows it's not true. That little display -- the shudder, the roll of the eyes, and immediate new clarity in Makoto's gaze -- had all been a bit too convincing to be an act. But bluster like this is just second nature to him, so he continues to lie: ] Like that bullshit would have any effect on me.
[ It's mostly just to surreptitiously yank that touch away from his throat when he shifts his grip on Makoto's hair and slams his head back into the ground; his other hand snatches Makoto's wrist to pin it to the ground. And in that position, Gen leans directly over Makoto as he drones, ]
But sure. I'll let you think what you want.
[ After all -- even if the wording is wrong, even if the very thought that he'd want to be around this slimy fuck makes him laugh, he won't deny the belief that Makoto belongs with him. With Zenith. Just like him, Makoto doesn't deserve to even dream of standing alongside those people he's left behind with Meridian.
no subject
and demons.
Beings that he never should have provoked.
That revelation has him frozen for a moment, his next breath coming hoarser past the tightness in his throat; though Gen's expression remains firmly fixed in that look of condescension, the fine hairs on his ears and the back of his neck are standing on end. It's only when he feels the drag of fingers against the high neck of his shirt, drifting just a little too close to where his shard lies, that he snaps back to his senses and jerks his head away from that touch. ]
... what, were you just faking it? Pretending not to recognize me in hopes I'd let you go? [ Even as he says it, he knows it's not true. That little display -- the shudder, the roll of the eyes, and immediate new clarity in Makoto's gaze -- had all been a bit too convincing to be an act. But bluster like this is just second nature to him, so he continues to lie: ] Like that bullshit would have any effect on me.
[ It's mostly just to surreptitiously yank that touch away from his throat when he shifts his grip on Makoto's hair and slams his head back into the ground; his other hand snatches Makoto's wrist to pin it to the ground. And in that position, Gen leans directly over Makoto as he drones, ]
But sure. I'll let you think what you want.
[ After all -- even if the wording is wrong, even if the very thought that he'd want to be around this slimy fuck makes him laugh, he won't deny the belief that Makoto belongs with him. With Zenith. Just like him, Makoto doesn't deserve to even dream of standing alongside those people he's left behind with Meridian.
Let them be wretches together. ]