For a long moment, Akira stares at him, utterly stunned. He doesn't know for how long. He doesn't know what kind of expression his face is making. What he does know is that
there are two things that Akira is afraid of in this world and any other.
He is afraid of running away
and he is afraid of being seen straight to his soul.
His hands pull off of the table as he leans back, settle on his thighs. It gives him something better, more substantive, to hold onto.
Akira needs to lie. Conceal it. Make something up, anything is fine, as long he doesn't reveal what's really on his mind. Correct himself. Be calm, be Joker.
A whisper slips out, and it's not what he needed to say.]
Yes.
[The light is at the wrong angle. It won't hide either of his eyes. He can only hope that his glasses are up to the task.
He tucks his thumb against his palm, presses til he feels the discomfort of nail against his palm. Piece back together. Pick the masks back up.
How did the other Akira feel around Maruki Takuto, after only a month's time?
He can't think about it. Lingering on this... doesn't help either of them. Not right now. Akira can give him answers he may need; he can't help him like this. He needs to refocus.]
If you can summon your Persona and I can't- it's literal, too. [Facts, logic. Realigning himself. As long as he doesn't get caught up in feeling too much, he'll be fine. It's fine. He'll be fine now, because he must be.] It's a piece of my soul I can't access.
[Arséne. How much less would he stumble with him? How much more?]
There's... something I should say about that. About yours, I mean. [There. His voice is almost normal again. It's fine. He's fine.] I think it might help you to know.
no subject
For a long moment, Akira stares at him, utterly stunned. He doesn't know for how long. He doesn't know what kind of expression his face is making. What he does know is that
He is afraid of running away
His hands pull off of the table as he leans back, settle on his thighs. It gives him something better, more substantive, to hold onto.
Akira needs to lie. Conceal it. Make something up, anything is fine, as long he doesn't reveal what's really on his mind. Correct himself. Be calm, be Joker.
A whisper slips out, and it's not what he needed to say.]
Yes.
[The light is at the wrong angle. It won't hide either of his eyes. He can only hope that his glasses are up to the task.
He tucks his thumb against his palm, presses til he feels the discomfort of nail against his palm. Piece back together. Pick the masks back up.
He can't think about it. Lingering on this... doesn't help either of them. Not right now. Akira can give him answers he may need; he can't help him like this. He needs to refocus.]
If you can summon your Persona and I can't- it's literal, too. [Facts, logic. Realigning himself. As long as he doesn't get caught up in feeling too much, he'll be fine. It's fine. He'll be fine now, because he must be.] It's a piece of my soul I can't access.
[Arséne. How much less would he stumble with him? How much more?]
There's... something I should say about that. About yours, I mean. [There. His voice is almost normal again. It's fine. He's fine.] I think it might help you to know.