[ Simple-- but she makes her slow, careful way over to him.
... And then reaches out, to pull him into a gentle hug. A brief one, because everything still aches a bit, but he'll just have to deal with the contact. He's yelled at her-- she's accepted it. But she needs to convey this much. ]
Thank you, Leon. I'll be more careful from now on.
[She's coming closer why is she coming closer--Leon has to fight the urge to back up, because his pride just won't let him, but he really has no idea why she would want to approach him at this point and didn't he tell her to sit back down--]
Obviously, Leon is not used to hugs. People don't... hug him. He doesn't have the sort of relationships that encourage hugs, he have never had those sorts of relationships, and he has never really had to deal with something like this. Even though it should have been obvious, it blindsides him, and he stiffens immediately, tensing up.
He'd shove her off, he really would, except he's worried that she'd fall and hurt herself with how unsteady she seems to be on her feet, so the only thing he can do is endure it, uncomfortable and tense and discomfited. Physical touch is already difficult enough for him to endure. Something like a hug, which is that intimate and gentle of a gesture, is even worse.]
[Later, perhaps, he'll be able to think on it again, when he's calmer, and realize that it wasn't all bad. Maybe. But for right now, all he can think about is how almost panic-inducing something like that is for someone like him, and the only blessing is that it's a short hug. She releases him, and he takes a few hasty steps back, pride be damned.
He needs the space.
And he's still tense, though he manages to school his expression into something a bit less wide-eyed and panicked through long practice if nothing else, and he's barely even processed what she said. Was she thanking him again? Should he just--go? He doesn't know what to do now, and it's making it very hard to come up with a response.
Eventually, though, he manages to settle himself as best he can, clearing his throat.]
Don't-- don't touch me.
[Another step back, almost on automatic, and tenseness adds urgency to his tone.]
You... say whatever you want. Do what you want. It doesn't matter to me. I did what I had to do, but don't mistake it as care.
[He's seen that Otome is okay, hasn't he?
That's enough. An awkward beat (for some reason, he doesn't feel like he can just... leave, and he's not sure why), and then:]
I'm leaving.
[With that, he feels like he can turn and go, which he does hastily and without a lot of aplomb or style, in contrast to his typical prideful flair.]
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[ Simple-- but she makes her slow, careful way over to him.
... And then reaches out, to pull him into a gentle hug. A brief one, because everything still aches a bit, but he'll just have to deal with the contact. He's yelled at her-- she's accepted it. But she needs to convey this much. ]
Thank you, Leon. I'll be more careful from now on.
1/idk something
no subject
Obviously, Leon is not used to hugs. People don't... hug him. He doesn't have the sort of relationships that encourage hugs, he have never had those sorts of relationships, and he has never really had to deal with something like this. Even though it should have been obvious, it blindsides him, and he stiffens immediately, tensing up.
He'd shove her off, he really would, except he's worried that she'd fall and hurt herself with how unsteady she seems to be on her feet, so the only thing he can do is endure it, uncomfortable and tense and discomfited. Physical touch is already difficult enough for him to endure. Something like a hug, which is that intimate and gentle of a gesture, is even worse.]
3/3 geronimoes out
He needs the space.
And he's still tense, though he manages to school his expression into something a bit less wide-eyed and panicked through long practice if nothing else, and he's barely even processed what she said. Was she thanking him again? Should he just--go? He doesn't know what to do now, and it's making it very hard to come up with a response.
Eventually, though, he manages to settle himself as best he can, clearing his throat.]
Don't-- don't touch me.
[Another step back, almost on automatic, and tenseness adds urgency to his tone.]
You... say whatever you want. Do what you want. It doesn't matter to me. I did what I had to do, but don't mistake it as care.
[He's seen that Otome is okay, hasn't he?
That's enough. An awkward beat (for some reason, he doesn't feel like he can just... leave, and he's not sure why), and then:]
I'm leaving.
[With that, he feels like he can turn and go, which he does hastily and without a lot of aplomb or style, in contrast to his typical prideful flair.]