Apparently Wolfwood's ability to read him like an open book had been a lifelong thing, then? The mask he had tried to keep up cracked just a bit harder at that, and he let it fall away willingly, just a bit. He wasn't going to lie to him, when he could already tell he wasn't alright, but he was still a bit guarded as he gave him a watery little smile.
"I know. I just...don't like to worry people. It's easier if I smile, you know? That's just how I manage. But thank you." For not asking, but that felt a little too much like confirming there was something in particular that was upsetting him, so he didn't say it.
The smile on his face tried to settle for a bit, when he nodded, and thinking about how things must have seemed for him in a general sense, detached from the specifics of who he was and what had happened, let him relax just a little bit.
"I can't imagine any of this was easy to make sense of, no. People had a hard enough knowing what to do when it was happening. But...things should be safe, now. Or, well, as safe as they usually are." Maybe a little safer, even, if people actually took what the Sisters had tried to achieve to heart. He wasn't sure how well that had been going back in the reality he was from, but at the very least, some seemed like they had been trying.
And that was a good thing, right? These things took time. In the early days, things had been even worse, the fighting even more intense between the survivors. But eventually, they'd settled. Not perfectly, no, but life had been possible, people had even been happy, in their own way. So he knew that if change were going to happen, it would just be a matter of time. And sometimes hope was hard to come by, but he'd always been able to find at least a little, when it came to people.
But then the mention of the fight in December made the smile fall, and he glanced away, his brow furrowing as he stared out into the crowd. Of course he would have seen the damage. Had he seen the grave? He hoped not. He hoped he never had to learn it was there, or who was in it. Let him grow up and live his life never knowing another man with his name was buried outside his home.
"The fight in December was...very bad, yes. The fighting here was worse, but...I think December was scarier, at least to the people who saw it. It's good you weren't there when it happened."
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Apparently Wolfwood's ability to read him like an open book had been a lifelong thing, then? The mask he had tried to keep up cracked just a bit harder at that, and he let it fall away willingly, just a bit. He wasn't going to lie to him, when he could already tell he wasn't alright, but he was still a bit guarded as he gave him a watery little smile.
"I know. I just...don't like to worry people. It's easier if I smile, you know? That's just how I manage. But thank you." For not asking, but that felt a little too much like confirming there was something in particular that was upsetting him, so he didn't say it.
The smile on his face tried to settle for a bit, when he nodded, and thinking about how things must have seemed for him in a general sense, detached from the specifics of who he was and what had happened, let him relax just a little bit.
"I can't imagine any of this was easy to make sense of, no. People had a hard enough knowing what to do when it was happening. But...things should be safe, now. Or, well, as safe as they usually are." Maybe a little safer, even, if people actually took what the Sisters had tried to achieve to heart. He wasn't sure how well that had been going back in the reality he was from, but at the very least, some seemed like they had been trying.
And that was a good thing, right? These things took time. In the early days, things had been even worse, the fighting even more intense between the survivors. But eventually, they'd settled. Not perfectly, no, but life had been possible, people had even been happy, in their own way. So he knew that if change were going to happen, it would just be a matter of time. And sometimes hope was hard to come by, but he'd always been able to find at least a little, when it came to people.
But then the mention of the fight in December made the smile fall, and he glanced away, his brow furrowing as he stared out into the crowd. Of course he would have seen the damage. Had he seen the grave? He hoped not. He hoped he never had to learn it was there, or who was in it. Let him grow up and live his life never knowing another man with his name was buried outside his home.
"The fight in December was...very bad, yes. The fighting here was worse, but...I think December was scarier, at least to the people who saw it. It's good you weren't there when it happened."