Lloyd startles as soon as Malos speaks up, whipping his head up with wide eyes. There is a little bit of mental berating - you're alone in these small woods, Lloyd, your friends are being hunted, you should have been alert - but he pushes it back like he pushes back the slight tinge of pain coming from his knuckles. The violent energy he had run out here with had disappeared with a few punches to a random tree, and though it left Lloyd mentally exhausted and with torn knuckles, he feels at least a semblance of better. At the very least, his flashbacks have faded for now.
“Ah - thank you,” he says, voice a little hoarse, guilt pulling at his throat with the obvious concern on Malos’ face, with the way he came out here to find Lloyd instead of Lloyd keeping it together by himself. “I-I’m coming. Don't want to keep you all waiting.”
Humiliation lingers in Lloyd's thoughts, sprouting growing dread at facing Zelos or Sheena after this episode, after making everything awkward and tense, after running out like a child. Lloyd pauses, counts to ten, takes a deep, shaky breath and stands, picking up his gloves beside him. He strolls ahead, fixing the gloves back into place and keeping his eyes downcast, because he's sure they're bloodshot and ugly and he's embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed at how he just keeps doing this, breaking down at every wrong turn just because his life happens to be tough.
Lloyd thinks about Kratos, about living for 4,000 years with so much pain, and knows it could be so much worse. He stops in front of Malos, flashes a tiny smile, and tilts his head in the direction of the safehouse. “Let's go.”
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“Ah - thank you,” he says, voice a little hoarse, guilt pulling at his throat with the obvious concern on Malos’ face, with the way he came out here to find Lloyd instead of Lloyd keeping it together by himself. “I-I’m coming. Don't want to keep you all waiting.”
Humiliation lingers in Lloyd's thoughts, sprouting growing dread at facing Zelos or Sheena after this episode, after making everything awkward and tense, after running out like a child. Lloyd pauses, counts to ten, takes a deep, shaky breath and stands, picking up his gloves beside him. He strolls ahead, fixing the gloves back into place and keeping his eyes downcast, because he's sure they're bloodshot and ugly and he's embarrassed, so fucking embarrassed at how he just keeps doing this, breaking down at every wrong turn just because his life happens to be tough.
Lloyd thinks about Kratos, about living for 4,000 years with so much pain, and knows it could be so much worse. He stops in front of Malos, flashes a tiny smile, and tilts his head in the direction of the safehouse. “Let's go.”