[In lieu of Cu further injuring him, he's doing plenty to widen his wound on his own. He's bleeding quite a bit now, but doesn't seem to be paying any attention to it. Instead he's just looking hurt and lost, and dropping his gaze to the floor as if ashamed.]
[He lets his hand be pulled away with only the slightest of resistance. If he was all manic insanity a minute ago, he's nothing but subdued sadness now. He hasn't been "cared about" since his father died. "Loved" by his Mistress, yes, but even as he is he knows that isn't the same thing. His eyes are welling up with tears again, but instead of hysterical they're simply, quietly heartsore.]
[He's almost limp in Cu's hands at this point. Like a posable doll, he holds dead still until Cu moves him, and then adjusts as prompted. He's not sure how to handle the situation, so he's just freezing and letting someone else lead.]
[He lets go of Diarmuid, but only for a moment to pull the cloth from his own wound and rip it where it looks cleanest. The bloodied half is firmly knotted back around his thigh, and he goes about doing the same for Diarmuid's arm]
Mm. Even if I could make sense of things without them... Someone like me couldn't just live normally, right? So I should just hate you and be done with it.
Look, I'd rather not anyone get killed, got it? I want you alive, and I don't wanna die and I'm not going to play around with any crazy what-ifs because they're crazy. And you know that.
[He flinches, taking half a step back. That last sentence hits its mark. He does know better, and being sharply reminded puts "sane" and "not sane" back in perspective with a cold splash.
He's still going at his lip though, tearing into it with one sharp canine until he's pierced skin.]
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streetwalkers2012-11-07 01:37 am
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[In lieu of Cu further injuring him, he's doing plenty to widen his wound on his own. He's bleeding quite a bit now, but doesn't seem to be paying any attention to it. Instead he's just looking hurt and lost, and dropping his gaze to the floor as if ashamed.]
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[He slowly, carefully grabs Diarmuid's wrist, trying to pull his fingers from the stab wound]
So quit it, okay?
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Why are you doing this to me?
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[What?]
Dunno. I said I cared about you, right? Don't see what other reason I need.
[One by one he tries to uncurl Diarmuid's fingers]
You got a handkerchief or something?
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[He's almost limp in Cu's hands at this point. Like a posable doll, he holds dead still until Cu moves him, and then adjusts as prompted. He's not sure how to handle the situation, so he's just freezing and letting someone else lead.]
...My heart hurts.
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[He lets go of Diarmuid, but only for a moment to pull the cloth from his own wound and rip it where it looks cleanest. The bloodied half is firmly knotted back around his thigh, and he goes about doing the same for Diarmuid's arm]
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I shouldn't let you in, you know.
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[No Cu, it's probably a bad idea to call her "that bitch" now that Diarmuid's finally calmed down]
Of your boss and shit?
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[he frowns, but--
He knows that it isn't his place to force anything. It's disheartening, knowing that he'll never be able to convince Diarmuid to come with him but.
If that's what he wants, then Cu isn't one to argue]
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I could make you kill me.
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[a liiiittle bit of that dangerous sharpness is coming back.
just a tiny bit though.]
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He's still going at his lip though, tearing into it with one sharp canine until he's pierced skin.]
...I'll have to think, then.
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[a pause]
Or stabbing. Or strangling. Or any of that other weird shit.
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[This time he manages to cut off the impulse reaction before it's done! But then he suddenly wilts and wraps his arms tight round himself.]
...I need to go home.
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