[Oh. Idia's defensive stance slips, evening out into something... open. Sympathetic. If there's one thing he understands, it's being left. If there's another thing he understands, it's picking up the pieces. Idia's eyes follow him, watching the slope of Fearless' shoulders change and shift, his expression feel through the memory. It's familiar in a way that's raw, tender.
If and when Fearless looks back at him, Idia has turned his gaze away. Eyes fixed on the carpet.]
Not much of a genius.
[That was supposed to be a thought, but there it is out in the open. Fine. Whatever. It's true. He's quiet for a stretch. Then;]
no subject
If and when Fearless looks back at him, Idia has turned his gaze away. Eyes fixed on the carpet.]
Not much of a genius.
[That was supposed to be a thought, but there it is out in the open. Fine. Whatever. It's true. He's quiet for a stretch. Then;]
... You loved that guy, huh?