[ There's the sensation of nostrils flaring, his breathing audible in between Set's words. She died, and it doesn't matter, because she's dead. It matters because Amos let slip something about Lydia — someone personal, and private; someone not to be known about by others, the one person he could consistently rely on during his shitty formative years — and even hearing Set reference her is.
He breathes; in the physical world, his fists clench, his eyes trained on swirling desert—
His eyes trained on his gun in that motherfucker's hands.
Amos is silent for a long moment, studying that image Set sends him — analyzing it bit by bit, piece by piece. It's no longer bloodied, and that's good. Its outer workings look like they're in good condition, and that's... good. There are no bullets with it, and that's better, considering who is currently in possession of it.
His mood does noticeably shift, anger downing in temperature, like heat dispersing from an object once it has entered the vacuum of space. He's still pissed, but at least Set did answer his question. So.
His voice is quieter when he speaks, skepticism dripping from his words. ]
That's what you do when you treasure someone? You ambush them and beat them bloody? You fuck with his head and leave someone else to pick up the pieces? You worm into his brain so bad that he can't comprehend what just happened? That's what treasuring someone means to you?
Why would I believe you when that's what you do to people you say you care about?
[ This is why Set is a sociopath; this is why this is one of the rare times when Amos knows he is right. Because you don't do that to your people, let alone anyone still so young. You just don't. ]
no subject
He breathes; in the physical world, his fists clench, his eyes trained on swirling desert—
His eyes trained on his gun in that motherfucker's hands.
Amos is silent for a long moment, studying that image Set sends him — analyzing it bit by bit, piece by piece. It's no longer bloodied, and that's good. Its outer workings look like they're in good condition, and that's... good. There are no bullets with it, and that's better, considering who is currently in possession of it.
His mood does noticeably shift, anger downing in temperature, like heat dispersing from an object once it has entered the vacuum of space. He's still pissed, but at least Set did answer his question. So.
His voice is quieter when he speaks, skepticism dripping from his words. ]
That's what you do when you treasure someone? You ambush them and beat them bloody? You fuck with his head and leave someone else to pick up the pieces? You worm into his brain so bad that he can't comprehend what just happened? That's what treasuring someone means to you?
Why would I believe you when that's what you do to people you say you care about?
[ This is why Set is a sociopath; this is why this is one of the rare times when Amos knows he is right. Because you don't do that to your people, let alone anyone still so young. You just don't. ]