He comes from a different time, a different world. The engineer he had once followed, protected, tried to emulate had been a Belter, considered low class, expendable, nothing by higher powers; a woman, and that had never been held against her by any society he was aware of. She was highly competent, fiercely intelligent, and only ever wanted to do what was right, and so Amos had followed her without question.
Hayame is not Naomi. Naomi would not kill; Naomi wasn't physically capable of fighting like that, anyway. She didn't like blood. She didn't like violence. She did what she could to avoid it, and so Amos would take up that mantle for her.
Hayame is his equal. It's why he can look at her so evenly now, speak to her so frankly. Everything else gets stuffed back in its box, buried back underneath his consciousness but for the little part of him that will always be aware, and brush the rest of it off.
And he thinks she gets that, because she doesn't fight it. She simply accepts it, because there's nothing else she can do when it comes to this. They're walking an awkward truce here, something deeper than the fight that surrounds this world, and he doesn't want to have to think about it any more than he already is. ]
Alright.
[ That's it. The emotion is gone from his voice, from his face, from his everything. I accept your offer. And then they're good.
... Except. A little spark of something showing through, a brief opening where he can pay attention to something else. The light catches his eyes; he tilts his head just barely in question. ]
You okay?
[ With a nod towards her hand, because that hiss of pain wasn't lost on him. There's being sore all over, battered and bruised and breathing might hurt for a little bit there, and then there's the minor discomfort of an injured digit which you use without even thinking about it, and it's easier to focus on the physical over literally anything else that could come up here, so he will. ]
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He comes from a different time, a different world. The engineer he had once followed, protected, tried to emulate had been a Belter, considered low class, expendable, nothing by higher powers; a woman, and that had never been held against her by any society he was aware of. She was highly competent, fiercely intelligent, and only ever wanted to do what was right, and so Amos had followed her without question.
Hayame is not Naomi. Naomi would not kill; Naomi wasn't physically capable of fighting like that, anyway. She didn't like blood. She didn't like violence. She did what she could to avoid it, and so Amos would take up that mantle for her.
Hayame is his equal. It's why he can look at her so evenly now, speak to her so frankly. Everything else gets stuffed back in its box, buried back underneath his consciousness but for the little part of him that will always be aware, and brush the rest of it off.
And he thinks she gets that, because she doesn't fight it. She simply accepts it, because there's nothing else she can do when it comes to this. They're walking an awkward truce here, something deeper than the fight that surrounds this world, and he doesn't want to have to think about it any more than he already is. ]
Alright.
[ That's it. The emotion is gone from his voice, from his face, from his everything. I accept your offer. And then they're good.
... Except. A little spark of something showing through, a brief opening where he can pay attention to something else. The light catches his eyes; he tilts his head just barely in question. ]
You okay?
[ With a nod towards her hand, because that hiss of pain wasn't lost on him. There's being sore all over, battered and bruised and breathing might hurt for a little bit there, and then there's the minor discomfort of an injured digit which you use without even thinking about it, and it's easier to focus on the physical over literally anything else that could come up here, so he will. ]