[The simultaneous sense of relief and sickening, rapidly rising fear is enough to make him nauseated. Is it fear, when you already know that it's something to be afraid of? That's just inevitability. This was always going to be a horror. But at least it's not Yasha. Her hair is white, and she is safe and with her friends.
He has his hand on the doorknob and his mind is pleading for him to put it down. Drop it. Walk away. Run, if you can. Nothing you've heard so far necessarily contradicts what's already been said. He swallows, and shifts so the coat covers the wound on his chest again, just nodding.]
[He sort of watches awkwardly, while Beau tries to actually do some comforting. Because yes, it doesn't make sense, there aren't very good explanations for anything. He both does and doesn't understand Molly's desire to run away from knowing upsetting things. He is a dweller through and through, but he is also a miserable person and Mollymauk has always struck him as mostly happy, so who the fuck is he to criticize it.
Just waiting, along with Beau, to see if there are follow up questions.]
You don't get tattoos matching people you've had a silly, meaningless falling out with.
When Beau leans against his shoulder he just turns, flashing her a smile, though it isn't the world's most convincing expression. He doesn't pull away or anything.]
[It's hard to see where he's at exactly except for vague discomfort, but he mostly thinks this went fairly well. It's hard to see Mollymauk clearly sad and afraid, but it isn't as though the truth would have been less difficult.]
You can ask whatever you want to know about, any time. About you, about the Mighty Nein, about me. Or don't, it's up to you.
[Where Molly's at, on the other hand, is mostly who the fuck are these supportive and understanding people. Could be a part of it is he knows whatever it is, it's going to hurt, and breaking down in front of these (mostly) competent strangers feels a little too vulnerable. Soft underbelly and all.
The smile gets a little more real though, ducking his head.]
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She is safe and with her friends.
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He has his hand on the doorknob and his mind is pleading for him to put it down. Drop it. Walk away. Run, if you can. Nothing you've heard so far necessarily contradicts what's already been said. He swallows, and shifts so the coat covers the wound on his chest again, just nodding.]
Alright. Good.
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Yeah. [she says quietly. that's all. she's not going to press, not this time.]
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Just waiting, along with Beau, to see if there are follow up questions.]
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You don't get tattoos matching people you've had a silly, meaningless falling out with.
When Beau leans against his shoulder he just turns, flashing her a smile, though it isn't the world's most convincing expression. He doesn't pull away or anything.]
Maybe tomorrow.
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We're here whenever. Regardless. [if he ever wants to know, if he never does at all, she's not going anywhere, at least.]
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You can ask whatever you want to know about, any time. About you, about the Mighty Nein, about me. Or don't, it's up to you.
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The smile gets a little more real though, ducking his head.]
You two are odd ducks, you know that?
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Says the oddest duck.
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