[ the genuine irritation in manuela's voice is both surprising and familiar. she'd sounded exactly like this the first time they'd met, her tone cutting and sardonic over the insult he'd paid her, but after their last meeting blade hadn't thought she cared any more—at least, not nearly enough to be angry about it still. and if that were to be the case, blade himself had tried not to care as well, so that they could pass each other in the hallway without another glance—but instead here he is, lifting his gaze from the plate in front of him to regard manuela with a long stare.
that's the thing, isn't it? why is she the only one upset? maybe it was his mistake to trust her, and that's why the room had forced him to spit out his deepest secrets, only to have them picked up and wielded against him. well, it is his fault in the end, isn't it. his sins are his own burden, and a weapon doesn't deserve anyone's friendship to begin with. more the fool him for forgetting his place. ]
Don't start, [ blade finds himself saying. it's partway scripted, but not entirely; he's no actor, but maybe with an assist from the setup he's finding himself at least able to meet her in the middle. ] As if you're dying to spend time with me these days?
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that's the thing, isn't it? why is she the only one upset? maybe it was his mistake to trust her, and that's why the room had forced him to spit out his deepest secrets, only to have them picked up and wielded against him. well, it is his fault in the end, isn't it. his sins are his own burden, and a weapon doesn't deserve anyone's friendship to begin with. more the fool him for forgetting his place. ]
Don't start, [ blade finds himself saying. it's partway scripted, but not entirely; he's no actor, but maybe with an assist from the setup he's finding himself at least able to meet her in the middle. ] As if you're dying to spend time with me these days?