what i don’t wish is for you to leave. 🥲
He never thought he'd be on the receiving end of that line. It'd always been him to think it, though rarely to say it — too scared of the repercussions of airing out his worst fears like that. V thinks it makes him a coward and therefore, by extent, this makes So Mi brave. For a moment, in his puzzlement, he wonders if she struggles with telling him this, with confiding in him so, just like he knows he would had their roles been reversed.
His end lies looming on the horizon, though, so maybe she's simply recognized she doesn't have anything to lose now. Neither does he, really, but he supposes his avoidant is also a real fuckin' stubborn one. So he chews on the sentiment she's just shared with him, his eyes searching hers for some indication of a lie — perhaps a white lie to placate him because, despite his best intentions, maybe she's seen through his forced distance; his eternal self-restraint, because what if his presence repels her, or what if his feelings do?
He sees none of that, not even with his signature paranoia keeping his expectations on a tight leash. V tips his head sideways some as such, his eyebrows knitting together.
He hadn't wanted to leave, anyway. Ironically, being stuck with the bastard that is Johnny Silverhand has made him all the more keen on sticking around; on living to see the end of this fucked-up tale. Quite the change from his usual disregard for his own life.
He'd be one big liar if he'd deny the role others have played in the second spark given to his will to live, though. Jackie ( man, how he misses him, still ), Panam, Judy — and, despite their rocky track record ( or maybe even because of it ), So Mi. Oh, So Mi, the one that fucked him over the hardest, and contrarily did the most to undo any damage done.
A slight smile splits his features, overpowering the bemusement stuck fast till now. Though reading facial expressions is hardly one of his strengths ( that unyielding scepticism of his sees to that ), he's sure he detects a current of sadness sweeping across her features. Not even the iridescent gradient of her hair he so loves could distract him from that.
Uncharacteristically boldly, he pierces the perimeter of the personal space he always ensures he sticks to ( even if others are invited into it ), placing his right hand on her shoulder — closer to her neck than to her upper arm.
As the silence stretches on a moment longer, he considers his chances; whether they're good enough to merit a promise from his end. Mikoshi, for all intents and purposes, should be the panacea he's been after. One assault, one cure, one escape, and that's it.
Still, he doesn't have the courage to commit to any promises. The uncertainty underscoring that fact frightens him somewhat, but he swallows it down for now, comforted by the knowledge that he's not alone in the fight of and for his life.
❛ I'm doin' all I can to stick around, So Mi. Somehow, this mess has gone and done the impossible of actually makin' me want to live. ❜ He squeezes her shoulder gently, cementing his resolution to stay. Before he finishes his train of thought, he withdraws his touch, gesturing towards her. ❛ I'll even admit to wantin' to stay just to spend more time with you. ❜
Here, his gaze peels off her, briefly flitting towards the NCART coasting along the tracks in the distance. It sticks there only for a second or two for that penetrating silence's sake, before his eyes inevitably find hers again. This time, the smile on his face bears a sheepish quality.
❛ Unless you're talkin' about not wantin' me to leave this specific spot just now — in which case: my bad, first of all. Second: I've got some time left 'fore I have to go meet Rogue. ❜
