[ When Yael smiles, Hector doesn't. His tired eyes rest still on the other man. He doesn't care if he sounds dramatic—he's serious. He doesn't want to see hints of Fai's upset, he doesn't want to look at Yael and feel like he owes him anything, he doesn't want him digging up these feelings he's trying so hard to bottle and bury. Maybe sometime in the future, when this is all long forgotten, he'll let Yael buy him a drink.
He scarcely reacts when Yael holds up his finger, and he waits patiently. Only when he hears the condition does a corner of his mouth quirk upward in a wry, halfhearted smile. ]
What the hell. What makes you think I'm going to die?
[ Very silly thought. ]
You're better off looking after one another, you and Fai. I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me.
[ He gives a dismissive little wave. He's at an advantage here, what with his little medical knowledge and being one of the few Harvest Clerics. Very little out there can kill him. ]
no subject
He scarcely reacts when Yael holds up his finger, and he waits patiently. Only when he hears the condition does a corner of his mouth quirk upward in a wry, halfhearted smile. ]
What the hell. What makes you think I'm going to die?
[ Very silly thought. ]
You're better off looking after one another, you and Fai. I can take care of myself. Don't worry about me.
[ He gives a dismissive little wave. He's at an advantage here, what with his little medical knowledge and being one of the few Harvest Clerics. Very little out there can kill him. ]