He shook his head, correcting the other man gently. "I know you can, but they don't want you to stand here for hours." After a moment, the words coming from some deep, long-untouched and disregarded place inside his head, he added: "I don't want you to stand here for hours." And he didn't - he even surprised himself a little, at how much he meant those words. He didn't like to see this man pushing himself when he didn't have to, especially when it was obviously causing him pain. And especially when he was clearly already in pain from earlier punishments.
He knew that look from the mirror, even if almost all of his senses were telling him that he'd never seen it on this man before. Were telling him that he'd never seen this man before at all, in fact, but that...wasn't quite ringing true. It didn't sit right, like a bone badly healed or an order given carelessly.
When the soldier didn't seem to object his presence, when he seemed to relax at it instead, he moved across the short space between them to stand beside him. "I really am." He spoke the words like a reassurance, though of course neither of them should require reassurance. They certainly shouldn't need to be soothed, like people deserving of or needing emotion. At the same time, however, the words tasted very slightly...wrong. Like he knew them to be a lie, but said so anyway, because he personally didn't want it to be a lie.
Yet these were all emotions in the privacy of his own head, and in no danger of compromising the mission. In fact, it felt...good, simple and right, to just reach out and take careful hold of him, trying to give him a way to ease some of the weight off his injured leg. It felt familiar, even though almost every instinct was telling him it shouldn't. The rest was telling him that he...owed this man this much, somehow, for some reason. He was more than happy to comply in that. "Come on. You should sit." His heart skipped a beat as he added: "I'll sit with you."
no subject
He knew that look from the mirror, even if almost all of his senses were telling him that he'd never seen it on this man before. Were telling him that he'd never seen this man before at all, in fact, but that...wasn't quite ringing true. It didn't sit right, like a bone badly healed or an order given carelessly.
When the soldier didn't seem to object his presence, when he seemed to relax at it instead, he moved across the short space between them to stand beside him. "I really am." He spoke the words like a reassurance, though of course neither of them should require reassurance. They certainly shouldn't need to be soothed, like people deserving of or needing emotion. At the same time, however, the words tasted very slightly...wrong. Like he knew them to be a lie, but said so anyway, because he personally didn't want it to be a lie.
Yet these were all emotions in the privacy of his own head, and in no danger of compromising the mission. In fact, it felt...good, simple and right, to just reach out and take careful hold of him, trying to give him a way to ease some of the weight off his injured leg. It felt familiar, even though almost every instinct was telling him it shouldn't. The rest was telling him that he...owed this man this much, somehow, for some reason. He was more than happy to comply in that. "Come on. You should sit." His heart skipped a beat as he added: "I'll sit with you."