he’s thankful for gabe’s quick action to take action to ground him, otherwise his hands would nervously push though hair, twist together, shake, ❛ oh my god, i don’t want to be a killer - i don’t want to be a killer. ❜ he’s never killed anyone - maybe he’s wanted to hurt people, maybe he’s felt like he could - - tries to look at gabe but he can’t quite meet his eyes. tries to listen to what gabe’s saying, focus on the sound of his voice, ❛ everyone wants people dead. i think there’s people out there that want me dead. ❜ is what he says, instead of trying to breathe, focus on gabe, focus on being present. ❛ i’ve -- ❜ it takes him a moment, he’s gripping gabe’s hands tightly, head ducked as he tries to switch his mind, not think about wanting people dead, just breathe, breathe. small frown drifts onto his face, eyes widen a bit, as if he’s searching for something in the patterns of the carpet, ❛ i fought in wars, gabe. ❜ francis says it quietly; he’s mentioned, they’ve mentioned their involvement in the wars of the 20th century, ❛ i must’ve killed people then, right? ❜ he always feels horrible when he dumps old, old problems on gabe, on anyone who hasn’t had the same kind of life that he, adam, and marie have had. he doesn’t want gabe to have to deal with his seventy years of suppressed trauma of wars.
