[ The reaction his words trigger is unexpected but it shouldn't be. Jonas is angry, just like him. Jonas is... scared, just like him. Teeth clench around the latter realization, willing to acknowledge it for himself but the voices in his head certainly aren't.
Noctis, Noctis, all alone... Ready to turn selfish and weak the second no one's looking. What, do you think this stupid angry teenager will tell on you? At least he's honest.
He feels sick to his stomach, blaming the bruising that's only half-healed, when he roughly takes a knee back at Jonas's side. ]
Oi... [ His voice is sharp, more gravelly than usual as he swallows the taste of salt. What would Gladio say? Isn't he always the one getting the advice? ] I get it... you don't know me, I don't know you, so let's cut the assumptions. Me and you both, because even if you don't trust me I'm gonna' need you to for however long it takes us to get out of this.
[ They're pragmatic words, not comforting words, and they make Noctis feel even less steady emotionally than he already had. Whatever else he wants to say is blocked by insecurity, and all he can do is clap a hand on Jonas's shoulder. ]
I'm going to pick you up over my shoulder, you got it? No surprises, just make sure you hold onto that flask. [ Dropping it, he assumes, would be harmless without its magic being activated first, but there's no need to test that theory.
He ducks low, moves telegraphed as clearly by his body language as they were by his voice, as one arm locks tight around Jonas's waist and his shoulder is slotted beneath his chest. The other hand finds his leg as he draws back, not only able to handle his weight but able to lift him up as he stands back to his full height, no shake or give in muscle. ]
–you good? I'm putting you back down! [ His voice is raised to call out over another sharp gust of wind that has him cautiously tightening his grip on Jonas to keep him secure, even slower to ease his feet back down onto the deck than he was to lift him up. ]
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Noctis, Noctis, all alone... Ready to turn selfish and weak the second no one's looking. What, do you think this stupid angry teenager will tell on you? At least he's honest.
He feels sick to his stomach, blaming the bruising that's only half-healed, when he roughly takes a knee back at Jonas's side. ]
Oi... [ His voice is sharp, more gravelly than usual as he swallows the taste of salt. What would Gladio say? Isn't he always the one getting the advice? ] I get it... you don't know me, I don't know you, so let's cut the assumptions. Me and you both, because even if you don't trust me I'm gonna' need you to for however long it takes us to get out of this.
[ They're pragmatic words, not comforting words, and they make Noctis feel even less steady emotionally than he already had. Whatever else he wants to say is blocked by insecurity, and all he can do is clap a hand on Jonas's shoulder. ]
I'm going to pick you up over my shoulder, you got it? No surprises, just make sure you hold onto that flask. [ Dropping it, he assumes, would be harmless without its magic being activated first, but there's no need to test that theory.
He ducks low, moves telegraphed as clearly by his body language as they were by his voice, as one arm locks tight around Jonas's waist and his shoulder is slotted beneath his chest. The other hand finds his leg as he draws back, not only able to handle his weight but able to lift him up as he stands back to his full height, no shake or give in muscle. ]
–you good? I'm putting you back down! [ His voice is raised to call out over another sharp gust of wind that has him cautiously tightening his grip on Jonas to keep him secure, even slower to ease his feet back down onto the deck than he was to lift him up. ]