( no, no he... isn't doing a very good job at it. but there's a sentiment behind the tough guy act that betrays him, one motivated by a bone-deep and uncanny illness at witnessing this type of abuse. he's been on the other end of someone's fists and crops, knows what it's like to have any protest fall on deaf ears, knows when no reaction can get a guy to stop.
but there's a profound aloneness to the memory that leaves him almost in a panic to stop it. is there no one around to help him in it? to cringe for him, to wince at each hit, to promise they'll get revenge one day and to commiserate and conspire with? if the memory wasn't going to let up, then he takes the approach that isn't exactly sympathetic, but he feels might redirect any emotions and bring him out of the moment.
it's not quite kind, no, and he doesn't like doing it. feels even worse when the nudge sends him scrambling, looking back at eugene with a countenance so wrought and loud with emotion that it feels like a strike to his own chest; there's too much to place there, written so plainly and painfully, and the guy's crying now. it puts eugene into a defensive grimace for a second, teeth gritting and hand moving to roam anxiously through his own hair, tearing his gaze away as he mumbles. )
Seriously, this guy's--?
( crying? not a surprise, it's a fucking horrific memory, but he was hoping it was a trick of the light or something. ) Uh, look.
( he can come off caustic and rough and like a complete jackass, sure, and ...well, he is all of these things, but he's also too sensitive for his own good. )
I'm not trying to make this worse for you. ( doesn't mean he isn't. ) But that creep over there? ( eugene thumbs at the uncomfortable imagery, stopping his eyes from wandering back. )
I don't care what you stole or how much of a smartass you were, you didn't deserve something like that. ( pep talks were always a weakness of his, and that fact alone would burn his face with embarrassment were he not so focused on the other man's anguish. it's distracting. and, though he takes a step forward to advance, he stops mid-movement at his own trepidation. )
I'll forget I ever saw this, okay? ( he tries for this approach, inwardly cursing what a spectacular Dick Move it is for the storm or whatever to screw with this guy's mind in such a way. he's blathering, he knows it, but there's a bit of a desperation to allay him that hits his tone. the kind of slow-boiling panic that hits anyone trying to inadequately calm another. ) If I see you later, I'll look at you and think, "who's that guy? he seems cool and strong" and all of that!
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but there's a profound aloneness to the memory that leaves him almost in a panic to stop it. is there no one around to help him in it? to cringe for him, to wince at each hit, to promise they'll get revenge one day and to commiserate and conspire with? if the memory wasn't going to let up, then he takes the approach that isn't exactly sympathetic, but he feels might redirect any emotions and bring him out of the moment.
it's not quite kind, no, and he doesn't like doing it. feels even worse when the nudge sends him scrambling, looking back at eugene with a countenance so wrought and loud with emotion that it feels like a strike to his own chest; there's too much to place there, written so plainly and painfully, and the guy's crying now. it puts eugene into a defensive grimace for a second, teeth gritting and hand moving to roam anxiously through his own hair, tearing his gaze away as he mumbles. )
Seriously, this guy's--?
( crying? not a surprise, it's a fucking horrific memory, but he was hoping it was a trick of the light or something. ) Uh, look.
( he can come off caustic and rough and like a complete jackass, sure, and ...well, he is all of these things, but he's also too sensitive for his own good. )
I'm not trying to make this worse for you. ( doesn't mean he isn't. ) But that creep over there? ( eugene thumbs at the uncomfortable imagery, stopping his eyes from wandering back. )
I don't care what you stole or how much of a smartass you were, you didn't deserve something like that. ( pep talks were always a weakness of his, and that fact alone would burn his face with embarrassment were he not so focused on the other man's anguish. it's distracting. and, though he takes a step forward to advance, he stops mid-movement at his own trepidation. )
I'll forget I ever saw this, okay? ( he tries for this approach, inwardly cursing what a spectacular Dick Move it is for the storm or whatever to screw with this guy's mind in such a way. he's blathering, he knows it, but there's a bit of a desperation to allay him that hits his tone. the kind of slow-boiling panic that hits anyone trying to inadequately calm another. ) If I see you later, I'll look at you and think, "who's that guy? he seems cool and strong" and all of that!