Kratos' words feel like a slap across the face for Zelos, yet another powerful reminder of his flawed logic and the lack of thought he's put into his plan. The shame that it leaves behind descends deep into his core until it touches the bottom of his being, then burning in the destructive, angry flame that rests there. Shaking slightly Zelos growls again, swiping a hand through the air in pure desperation. "Fuck you!" he snaps, all fury and fear and pain. "We are at war. We don't get the privilege of choosing what we want to do when there's--!"

Zelos chokes on his words. He's stopped, abruptly, by Sheena's voice cutting through their argument, and he turns his head to see his driver standing right there in-between the trees. His grip on his sword falters momentarily, expression reflecting all the horror in his core as Zelos realizes he's stopped holding the emotional bleed close.

This is bad.

Cold fear grips at the top of Zelos' core, and right there he remembers to enclose it in his hands, snapping the emotional bleed's flow once again, expression smoothing into something blank. How many times has it been now that he lashes out like this, that he fails his own driver? How many times Zelos he put Sheena on the spot, how many times has he been an ungrateful bastard to the people who rescued him and want to help him rescue his sister, how many times has he put them all in danger?

Where do the limits stand? How far has he pushed?

Just how much more of him and his idiocy are these people going to stand?

He should apologize, he knows. But standing where he is, in this second that he takes to just stare at Sheena, Zelos' tongue feels more like lead in his mouth, all his thoughts and words inadequate and shameful. Panic, for a second. And in that second the flame in his chest melts away at the ice, anger and fear mixing together in a dangerous, powerful emotion that moves him like a puppet, saying,

"Get the hell out of here. You shouldn't be here."