[ Amos isn't sure if he's feeling Gen's concussion for himself or if there's something much deeper, much more confusing that he's picking up from him — something that, for as confused as Gen is, Amos is even more so because there's a limit to how far he can follow it. He doesn't carry any anxiety within him, though. Attempts to naturally counter Gen's by the little bit of light, of warmth and love, that he feels as Gen gives him permission to patch him up. One small, tiny good thing he can have in this moment, because there... isn't much else.
So it's with a gentle touch that Amos takes Gen's head in his palm, that his claws lightly tap against him, stopping the bleeding from his face. Fixing up that eye. As careful and as gentle as he's ever been with anyone, because it really isn't all that often that it feels like he's holding someone's life in his hands that he wants to save. Protect. Keep going. ]
I'm okay. You don't gotta worry about me.
[ He means it, but even as he says it, he gets the sense that Gen's gonna ignore that second sentiment anyway. Amos has already been dealt the worst of what life has to offer; what more can hurt him? But people who care about him might just worry about him anyway, and maybe he should start accepting that. Gen doesn't have to worry about him, but if he's going to anyway, then Amos will be mindful of it. Maybe one day learn to appreciate it.
He pulls that gentle touch of his claws back, looking over Gen's face. He thinks he got it all, but with all the blood already spilled, it's a little tough to tell. ]
No, he shouldn't have fucked with us. [ He doesn't notice that lack of conviction; maybe Gen's exhaustion is seeping into his being, too. Destroying Set's stuff — whatever it is — is important, but it's not an immediate priority. ] It's okay. You can do that later. Thinking we can go back to camp now... wash up a bit along the way. Maybe take a nap... We still got time. We can get back at him tomorrow.
[ Because for as much as Amos wants to get back at him, to get this win for Zenith, and there's so much to do on all of those fronts...
Maybe he would rather spend his time now on making sure Gen's okay. ]
no subject
So it's with a gentle touch that Amos takes Gen's head in his palm, that his claws lightly tap against him, stopping the bleeding from his face. Fixing up that eye. As careful and as gentle as he's ever been with anyone, because it really isn't all that often that it feels like he's holding someone's life in his hands that he wants to save. Protect. Keep going. ]
I'm okay. You don't gotta worry about me.
[ He means it, but even as he says it, he gets the sense that Gen's gonna ignore that second sentiment anyway. Amos has already been dealt the worst of what life has to offer; what more can hurt him? But people who care about him might just worry about him anyway, and maybe he should start accepting that. Gen doesn't have to worry about him, but if he's going to anyway, then Amos will be mindful of it. Maybe one day learn to appreciate it.
He pulls that gentle touch of his claws back, looking over Gen's face. He thinks he got it all, but with all the blood already spilled, it's a little tough to tell. ]
No, he shouldn't have fucked with us. [ He doesn't notice that lack of conviction; maybe Gen's exhaustion is seeping into his being, too. Destroying Set's stuff — whatever it is — is important, but it's not an immediate priority. ] It's okay. You can do that later. Thinking we can go back to camp now... wash up a bit along the way. Maybe take a nap... We still got time. We can get back at him tomorrow.
[ Because for as much as Amos wants to get back at him, to get this win for Zenith, and there's so much to do on all of those fronts...
Maybe he would rather spend his time now on making sure Gen's okay. ]