[Maybe it's not the best idea he's had (though debatable if any of his ideas are the best), but maybe after the whole chicken house thing, it bothers him a hell of a lot less. He'll never get the memory back that he gave to that thing. Lorelai trusts this thing, though, and he trusts Lorelai even if he probably shouldn't, considering she's not the best judge of character.
Hell if he is either, though.
He follows the Trader, sitting down, declining the tea. (No offense, but Lorelai's is probably better.) After he thinks on it, he gets Steve's attention and waves him over.
This doesn't need to be private anymore. Not like with someone he didn't know as well as Steve. Eventually, Nero thinks about throwing a rock at him, but Steve catches his drift before he has to resort to it.
With his tail wrapped around him, Nero squats down — not quite sitting, not as chill as Lorelai was — and waits for Steve to come by before he starts.]
I had a brother. Credo. When I was a kid, his family took me in. [He breathes. There's a lot of things that still linger with him. The Pit. Dante's shit. His father. And while his father might be a bastard, a shadow that stalks him, and V was — was a friend he'd had, and lost, and he still barely knows a thing about Vergil — his brother was someone he knew. He'd loved.]
He wasn't a great one, I guess. Kind of a real bastard. But he was the only one I had, so I don't really got anything to compare him to. [No, he was a good one. Not a nice one is what he meant, but he keeps going. And he does have comparisons now — a brother like Geralt, or Steve. Sisters like Wanda and Himeka.] And a few years ago, he died. 'Cause of me. 'Cause I wasn't strong enough to keep him alive, even if it was half his fault for being such a dumbass. I —
[And here Nero stops, and rubs his hand through his hair, and rubs at his nose, all the little things he does when his emotions don't know what the hell to do. They just curl up, boiling, under the surface, like they have for years. The end of his tail slaps against the ground.] I didn't talk about him for years 'cause I was ashamed of it. I get it's not my fault, but it is, too. I just... I guess I don't want him to be forgotten, even if somethin' happens to me. [If he sells the wrong memory. If some god fucks his brain up like scrambled eggs. Even if the Trader fucks with him... at least Steve's hearing it, too.] There's not a lot of people to remember him anymore.
[He holds his hand out for the coin. He's not leaving empty handed.] Anyway, that's it. Doesn't really mean anything now. [He starts getting up, brushing off his pants.] Just shit made me think of him lately.
[And he doesn't have much to remember Credo by. The Red Queen, the sword he gave Geralt... and now a single bronze coin. It isn't nothing.]
no subject
Hell if he is either, though.
He follows the Trader, sitting down, declining the tea. (No offense, but Lorelai's is probably better.) After he thinks on it, he gets Steve's attention and waves him over.
This doesn't need to be private anymore. Not like with someone he didn't know as well as Steve. Eventually, Nero thinks about throwing a rock at him, but Steve catches his drift before he has to resort to it.
With his tail wrapped around him, Nero squats down — not quite sitting, not as chill as Lorelai was — and waits for Steve to come by before he starts.]
I had a brother. Credo. When I was a kid, his family took me in. [He breathes. There's a lot of things that still linger with him. The Pit. Dante's shit. His father. And while his father might be a bastard, a shadow that stalks him, and V was — was a friend he'd had, and lost, and he still barely knows a thing about Vergil — his brother was someone he knew. He'd loved.]
He wasn't a great one, I guess. Kind of a real bastard. But he was the only one I had, so I don't really got anything to compare him to. [No, he was a good one. Not a nice one is what he meant, but he keeps going. And he does have comparisons now — a brother like Geralt, or Steve. Sisters like Wanda and Himeka.] And a few years ago, he died. 'Cause of me. 'Cause I wasn't strong enough to keep him alive, even if it was half his fault for being such a dumbass. I —
[And here Nero stops, and rubs his hand through his hair, and rubs at his nose, all the little things he does when his emotions don't know what the hell to do. They just curl up, boiling, under the surface, like they have for years. The end of his tail slaps against the ground.] I didn't talk about him for years 'cause I was ashamed of it. I get it's not my fault, but it is, too. I just... I guess I don't want him to be forgotten, even if somethin' happens to me. [If he sells the wrong memory. If some god fucks his brain up like scrambled eggs. Even if the Trader fucks with him... at least Steve's hearing it, too.] There's not a lot of people to remember him anymore.
[He holds his hand out for the coin. He's not leaving empty handed.] Anyway, that's it. Doesn't really mean anything now. [He starts getting up, brushing off his pants.] Just shit made me think of him lately.
[And he doesn't have much to remember Credo by. The Red Queen, the sword he gave Geralt... and now a single bronze coin. It isn't nothing.]