[Doesn't really feel like this conversation's going anywhere. Blaming Dante for shit -- even if he did fuck up -- it's not changing anything. Guess that runs in the family too, actually.
He doesn't need to ask. If there's a resemblance. Sometimes he thinks he saw enough in V to tell.
At least a part of him.
Another shrug. He doesn't look away from the window, but Shadow, she sits in the corner and watches Dante. Not with hostility or wariness, but with a cool, accepting calm. All the little bits that exist in Nero, free-floating, but that never meet and become some solid thing.
It's only the next thing that does it.
It's like everything around the van holds its breath and takes that in. Nero's head slowly turns, and he meets Dante's eyes, brows furrowed.
That. Now, that. He doesn't need to know anyone to know that's never run in the family. If it had, maybe things would've never gotten to the point they did in Red Grave. He's not even sure what to say. Struck dumb by the sincere simplicity of it. Nero has never really given a shit about words, because most of the time they don't mean anything. He's only ever needed actions to back them up.
He rubs his nose, dropping his arm from against the window.] I don't care that you couldn't help. [Be pretty hypocritical of him when he couldn't even manage to get out with his own power. Nero knows that island fucked with them, down to his very basic biology. He'd only reached out out of desperation.] What bothers me is -- what matters -- [He punches a fist into his other hand.] Is the only thing that you needed to hear was that I was alive. I guess you heard I made it out... and that was enough.
[Not a thought. Not a single message. Nero was alive, and that was good enough. Didn't matter what he'd gone through, or what he'd survived, or who he'd watched not survive, or if he even felt anything about it.
He was alive. And he'd move on, right?
And if Dante wasn't gonna bother, then why would he?]
no subject
He doesn't need to ask. If there's a resemblance. Sometimes he thinks he saw enough in V to tell.
At least a part of him.
Another shrug. He doesn't look away from the window, but Shadow, she sits in the corner and watches Dante. Not with hostility or wariness, but with a cool, accepting calm. All the little bits that exist in Nero, free-floating, but that never meet and become some solid thing.
It's only the next thing that does it.
It's like everything around the van holds its breath and takes that in. Nero's head slowly turns, and he meets Dante's eyes, brows furrowed.
That. Now, that. He doesn't need to know anyone to know that's never run in the family. If it had, maybe things would've never gotten to the point they did in Red Grave. He's not even sure what to say. Struck dumb by the sincere simplicity of it. Nero has never really given a shit about words, because most of the time they don't mean anything. He's only ever needed actions to back them up.
He rubs his nose, dropping his arm from against the window.] I don't care that you couldn't help. [Be pretty hypocritical of him when he couldn't even manage to get out with his own power. Nero knows that island fucked with them, down to his very basic biology. He'd only reached out out of desperation.] What bothers me is -- what matters -- [He punches a fist into his other hand.] Is the only thing that you needed to hear was that I was alive. I guess you heard I made it out... and that was enough.
[Not a thought. Not a single message. Nero was alive, and that was good enough. Didn't matter what he'd gone through, or what he'd survived, or who he'd watched not survive, or if he even felt anything about it.
He was alive. And he'd move on, right?
And if Dante wasn't gonna bother, then why would he?]