Cold panic stabs at his core as soon as Kratos grabs his wrist and twists, an instinctual flinch causing him to bite his tongue. It's - it's so irrational, the fear that grips at Lloyd's heart, because on one hand, he'd rather Kratos be honest about it, about his triggers and touch aversion, and the guy looks so softhearted about this it makes Lloyd feel bad, conscious of how his pulse spikes. But on the other hand…

Damn it, get your shit together, Lloyd. Quietly taking a deep breath and rolling his now-free wrist, Lloyd scoots away just a little more, needing the distance now. It's embarrassing. This is embarrassing. "Yeah, I understand. Noted, Captain," he jokes, forcing his gaze up to the stars. This isn't his world, this isn't his Kratos. Kratos was just - trying to keep controlled. And Lloyd understands, doesn't blame him, would rather this happen than didn't, but.

Whatever.

"Dirk's a real good guy. Taught me all I know," Lloyd continues, but his heart's not in it. He keeps thinking about fighting his other father, the one who decided to forego their standard sword-fighting to pull him by the wrist into a melee combo that landed him with a concussion and three cracked ribs. Will Lloyd ever be able to put their fucked up relationship to rest?

How is he supposed to deal with the sudden realization that he's scared of his father?