{It's not that, so much. Trust, like friendship for you, is not a word I come by easily.}
[For once, it's a short and sweet explanation, and one that speaks volumes of a sickly-looking young man. Certainly, they'll likely have a long talk about their differences - and about those damned flowers, because they were beginning to distract the poor cyberhacker - later. When they were in a safer location.
That he doesn't go down, by that measure, is a fact of chance more than anything. The grunt that escapes his lips isn't intentional by any means, and Silas will note that this kid is... pretty cool to the touch. Not worryingly so, but enough. There are also a couple of spots, if he ends up leaning on them, where there are odd... protrusions? They appear to be round and flat, close to his skin like they're sticking out of it. Fingers grip the nearby wall with enough force to whiten the knuckles more than they already are, and he takes in a sharp, bracing breath. So occupied, he doesn't really have the hands to type... and so he doesn't speak at all, instead just giving Silas a wry look that's just this side of 'this is what hubris does'.
Given a second, he'll manage to correct his balance, at least, and lean his weight forward to brace under Silas' much more considerable form. It's easier to use the other's momentum, after all, than his own, and once he has the hand free from gripping onto the wall, he'll type again. Dude's got some pretty impressive keyboard skills overall.]
{Alright. Change of plans. Let's find you that wheelchair. Doctor becomes a patient or whatever - there's probably a serial about that.}
[He's not got enough pride to try to carry this guy every already-staggered step of the way, and Silas isn't alone in his habit of joking to cover nerves. Thankfully, he remembers seeing a wheelchair in one of the nearby rooms on the way toward 'out'. Now they just have to get there.]
no subject
[For once, it's a short and sweet explanation, and one that speaks volumes of a sickly-looking young man. Certainly, they'll likely have a long talk about their differences - and about those damned flowers, because they were beginning to distract the poor cyberhacker - later. When they were in a safer location.
That he doesn't go down, by that measure, is a fact of chance more than anything. The grunt that escapes his lips isn't intentional by any means, and Silas will note that this kid is... pretty cool to the touch. Not worryingly so, but enough. There are also a couple of spots, if he ends up leaning on them, where there are odd... protrusions? They appear to be round and flat, close to his skin like they're sticking out of it. Fingers grip the nearby wall with enough force to whiten the knuckles more than they already are, and he takes in a sharp, bracing breath. So occupied, he doesn't really have the hands to type... and so he doesn't speak at all, instead just giving Silas a wry look that's just this side of 'this is what hubris does'.
Given a second, he'll manage to correct his balance, at least, and lean his weight forward to brace under Silas' much more considerable form. It's easier to use the other's momentum, after all, than his own, and once he has the hand free from gripping onto the wall, he'll type again. Dude's got some pretty impressive keyboard skills overall.]
{Alright. Change of plans. Let's find you that wheelchair. Doctor becomes a patient or whatever - there's probably a serial about that.}
[He's not got enough pride to try to carry this guy every already-staggered step of the way, and Silas isn't alone in his habit of joking to cover nerves. Thankfully, he remembers seeing a wheelchair in one of the nearby rooms on the way toward 'out'. Now they just have to get there.]