It hadn't been his intention to startle Claude, but the way his friend's shoulder jerked under his touch made it clear that he had. Guy pulled his hand away and set it awkwardly in his lap, his concern for his friend growing when it took the other blond some time to formulate a response. If it had been the fault of a monster, he wouldn't have been hesitating so much. Guy felt a weight start to grow in his gut, and then--
The words he hadn't wanted to hear were spoken, and his arms tensed with an anger he couldn't direct anywhere. He certainly couldn't direct it at Claude, but he couldn't blame himself either. He'd ended up in Auldrant the second he'd stepped through the door onto the field, and he'd been "home" up until night's end. There was no way he could have helped. In a way, that was worse.
So Claude's time had finally come. The younger man sounded horrible, like his throat was sore -- from screaming, maybe? The thought was just terrible enough that it might actually be true, but Guy obviously wasn't going to ask. Aware that his friend couldn't see the concern on his face, he realized that he would have to make it clear in his voice.
"I'm sorry, Claude, that's..." He sighed and shook his head. It had gotten to a point where he'd thought that maybe his friend was in the clear, but that had obviously been naive of him. "What did they do? Or... if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. If you do, though, I'm here." The most pressing question was what had happened to his eyes, but that might be the hardest thing for Claude to talk about. Had he been permanently blinded, or was it something else? Guy wanted to ask question after question, but he knew that he had to let Claude explain at his own pace, if he wanted to explain at all.
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The words he hadn't wanted to hear were spoken, and his arms tensed with an anger he couldn't direct anywhere. He certainly couldn't direct it at Claude, but he couldn't blame himself either. He'd ended up in Auldrant the second he'd stepped through the door onto the field, and he'd been "home" up until night's end. There was no way he could have helped. In a way, that was worse.
So Claude's time had finally come. The younger man sounded horrible, like his throat was sore -- from screaming, maybe? The thought was just terrible enough that it might actually be true, but Guy obviously wasn't going to ask. Aware that his friend couldn't see the concern on his face, he realized that he would have to make it clear in his voice.
"I'm sorry, Claude, that's..." He sighed and shook his head. It had gotten to a point where he'd thought that maybe his friend was in the clear, but that had obviously been naive of him. "What did they do? Or... if you don't want to talk about it, I understand. If you do, though, I'm here." The most pressing question was what had happened to his eyes, but that might be the hardest thing for Claude to talk about. Had he been permanently blinded, or was it something else? Guy wanted to ask question after question, but he knew that he had to let Claude explain at his own pace, if he wanted to explain at all.