[016]

[a_ccidentalism]

[and Axel finally comes to, but it's not a gradual awakening. One gloved hand clutches together suddenly, as if seeking to grip a weapon, and he immediately attempts to sit up. He makes it, though it looks like the movement's taking a fair bit of his current strength, fingers digging into the wood of the pew.]

F-fuck. What hap -

[a wince cuts off

Comments

[a_ccidentalism]

The city can't get enough of me.

[wait. "too?"]

D'you remember anything about it?

[a_ccidentalism]

Nothing clear either.

[conveniently glossing over the "having the crap kicked out of him" part, even though it's pretty obvious he did.]

[a_ccidentalism]

Really? Thanks for the compliment, Rox.

[read: I've been through worse.]

[a_ccidentalism]

Actually, I'm grievously wounded.

[a_ccidentalism]

Yeah, I like making small talk while I'm on my deathbed.

[a_ccidentalism]

[why so serious Roxas? But Axel does know where to draw the line (even if said line is a little farther than most). And it happens to be the realize that Roxas was worried about him.]

Huh. That was a new experience.

[the abrupt way he drops the joking tone might be strange. Given that he and the Roxas from his world didn't exactly part on the greatest of terms, though...]

[a_ccidentalism]

Being -

[worried about.]

taken seriously.

[a_ccidentalism]

[Axel and his emotional insensitivity, though it could be a point in his favor that he's perceptive enough to know when a conversation goes the wrong way.]

I don't go down that easily, Rox.