[ The prick of claws on his scalp remind Krouse of the strange, charged heat of a scaly talon in his hand, which would break something new in him if there was anything left to break. All that seems to be left is already broken things to bruise.
He doesn't deserve this from Riz. He doesn't deserve this from anyone. Every time someone reaches out a hand, familiar and human or small and clawed, Krouse wants them to understand that. No one should touch him. He took that away from her, so he shouldn't get to have it for himself.
Even Noelle didn't think that was true. Her talon in his hand. Her face cradled in his palms, tiny, exhausted, warm. She let him touch her one more time, after everything he did to her, and he doesn't know what to do with a life that keeps offering him reprieves long past when he wanted them. ]
I can't.
[ His hand emptied of the screwdriver sinks back into his hair. He shakes his head, a sob cracking on an echo of laughter, because he always laughs a little when he cries. It's fucked up. ]
You don't get it. She was here. She was here when I got here. She was real. She was dead and then she was here and then I went to sleep and she was fucking gone, but - this isn't theoretical. That was real. They brought her back already. They can do it again.
And even if they don't, you remember me asking about death, right? Where people come from? If anyone ever came back? It happens. I'm not just making shit up. It's not - fucking about how I feel.
[ He lifts his head, looking up at Riz ever so slightly from his hunch on the floor, his villain's costume never looking so much like a costume as it does now. Absurd and over the top, a dress up outfit for a game. His eyes are wide, red-rimmed, fervent. ]
You get it, right? [ He asks, his voice cracked all the way through. ] If it was you. If it was someone you loved. If they'd been here, and you saw them, and you fucking knew it was possible, would you stop?
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He doesn't deserve this from Riz. He doesn't deserve this from anyone. Every time someone reaches out a hand, familiar and human or small and clawed, Krouse wants them to understand that. No one should touch him. He took that away from her, so he shouldn't get to have it for himself.
Even Noelle didn't think that was true. Her talon in his hand. Her face cradled in his palms, tiny, exhausted, warm. She let him touch her one more time, after everything he did to her, and he doesn't know what to do with a life that keeps offering him reprieves long past when he wanted them. ]
I can't.
[ His hand emptied of the screwdriver sinks back into his hair. He shakes his head, a sob cracking on an echo of laughter, because he always laughs a little when he cries. It's fucked up. ]
You don't get it. She was here. She was here when I got here. She was real. She was dead and then she was here and then I went to sleep and she was fucking gone, but - this isn't theoretical. That was real. They brought her back already. They can do it again.
And even if they don't, you remember me asking about death, right? Where people come from? If anyone ever came back? It happens. I'm not just making shit up. It's not - fucking about how I feel.
[ He lifts his head, looking up at Riz ever so slightly from his hunch on the floor, his villain's costume never looking so much like a costume as it does now. Absurd and over the top, a dress up outfit for a game. His eyes are wide, red-rimmed, fervent. ]
You get it, right? [ He asks, his voice cracked all the way through. ] If it was you. If it was someone you loved. If they'd been here, and you saw them, and you fucking knew it was possible, would you stop?