[he falters, stumbling back a step as his hand goes up to his head. without warning, his eyes turn a vivid red; he clutches at himself, as if his head hurts.]
Get away from me! I'm not the one to worry about...!
[he shoves caleb away, stepping back again. then, without warning, he turns on his heel, walks straight to a nearby bookcase, at which point he slams his head against the edge. it's fine. his mostly healed wound reopens and he's probably bleeding, but he actually looks less in pain now, as his eyes return to purple.]
Damn it! How dare—!
[it doesn't look like he's shouting at caleb, though? hm.]
[That's rude. No, he doesn't actually mind being shoved, just waits for this to pass. See, he knew from their first conversation, when Chad pulled that 'I'm not very interesting' thing, that he was definitely also sad and hates himself, so this tracks.
He doesn't even find it hilarious that Chad just bonked into a bookcase, that's how understanding he is of these problems.]
. . . It's alright. I wouldn't let whatever it is hurt me.
... I can't speak about something I have no recollection of. As it is, I can only go off your word—which, no offence, isn't necessarily worth that much.
... What point is there in lacking confidence? Even if there is something wrong with me... if words alone—or standing here questioning my sanity—could change it, it likely would've been undone weeks ago.
I'd rather focus on something productive than waste time stressing over the unknown.
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[he falters, stumbling back a step as his hand goes up to his head. without warning, his eyes turn a vivid red; he clutches at himself, as if his head hurts.]
Ugh...!
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Are you alright?
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[he shoves caleb away, stepping back again. then, without warning, he turns on his heel, walks straight to a nearby bookcase, at which point he slams his head against the edge. it's fine. his mostly healed wound reopens and he's probably bleeding, but he actually looks less in pain now, as his eyes return to purple.]
Damn it! How dare—!
[it doesn't look like he's shouting at caleb, though? hm.]
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He doesn't even find it hilarious that Chad just bonked into a bookcase, that's how understanding he is of these problems.]
. . . It's alright. I wouldn't let whatever it is hurt me.
[1/2]
You're already failing again. As if I'd lose to something like this—!
[who's he talking to? himself? hard to say. but he seems to focus on caleb now, turning to face him.]
You're on the right path, but you might be... getting...?
[...]
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What...? Ugh, my head...
[he wipes a hand at the blood trickling down his face, before staring at it as if he's not quite sure why that's there.]
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[Reaching in his pocket? Handing him a napkin?]
You seemed not yourself for a moment there. Has that happened before?
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What do you mean?
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I worry I'll inspire worse. Oh, well. Your eyes changed color and you started speaking to yourself. Arguing.
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I... did? [he blinks.] Are you sure it wasn't just a trick of the light?
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Then it was probably just the light.
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[It wasn't. So stubborn. Chad is actually such a weirdo.]
So you aren't concerned about the rest of it. . . ?
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No, it isn't. But I envy you your confidence. I doubt I could have such confidence in my own mind, since I know what it is to have it tampered with.
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... What point is there in lacking confidence? Even if there is something wrong with me... if words alone—or standing here questioning my sanity—could change it, it likely would've been undone weeks ago.
I'd rather focus on something productive than waste time stressing over the unknown.
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But a lot of people have underestimated my capabilities before and have been wrong.
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