[ It's not like Gen is completely blind to the fact that something's going on around him -- he'd reacted to that flicker of movement as Silco vanished from sight, after all, and his body reacts to the subtle signs of someone approaching with ill intent. His instincts have always been decently sharp, and he tenses at the quiet grind of shoesoles against the ground, the faint stirring in the air indicating movement, and the distinct sensation of being looked at. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, a little frisson of unease and caution stirs.
But that emotion is buried so deep under an avalanche of heartbreak and distress that they might as well not exist.
Silco draws closer, brandishing that unseen knife, and all Gen can do is curl up smaller as he ducks his head, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. The hand he has tangled into his shirtfront is gripping so hard that fabric is starting to fray, fingers clawing into the flooring so hard that there's the audible grind of his prosthetic's fingertips into the stone.
A delightful revelation for Silco that Gen looks like he definitely won't be putting up much of a fight. Although ...
As he finishes closing the distance between them, he might feel a strange sensation crawling down his spine. A gentle heat, like the press of a body against his spine, accompanied by the soft weight of arms over his shoulder. It feels a bit like he's being cradled close into the bosom of a phantom, embraced from behind, complete with soft breaths whispering past his ear. If he looks behind he won't see anything, no indication of what's causing those sensations. Instead, it's a closer look at Gen that might give him a hint.
Gen flinches sharply, shivering visibly at the same time that an unseen voice croons into his ear -- a woman's voice, syrupy soft and saccharine, that murmurs, 'You're the only one who can help us, Gen. ]
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But that emotion is buried so deep under an avalanche of heartbreak and distress that they might as well not exist.
Silco draws closer, brandishing that unseen knife, and all Gen can do is curl up smaller as he ducks his head, mumbling something incoherent under his breath. The hand he has tangled into his shirtfront is gripping so hard that fabric is starting to fray, fingers clawing into the flooring so hard that there's the audible grind of his prosthetic's fingertips into the stone.
A delightful revelation for Silco that Gen looks like he definitely won't be putting up much of a fight. Although ...
As he finishes closing the distance between them, he might feel a strange sensation crawling down his spine. A gentle heat, like the press of a body against his spine, accompanied by the soft weight of arms over his shoulder. It feels a bit like he's being cradled close into the bosom of a phantom, embraced from behind, complete with soft breaths whispering past his ear. If he looks behind he won't see anything, no indication of what's causing those sensations. Instead, it's a closer look at Gen that might give him a hint.
Gen flinches sharply, shivering visibly at the same time that an unseen voice croons into his ear -- a woman's voice, syrupy soft and saccharine, that murmurs, 'You're the only one who can help us, Gen. ]