[Markus finds something sad in the resignation he hears in those words; or maybe it’s the way Noctis has slumped back into the bed, mind caught in what he can only assume is memory.]
Noctis.
[The desk isn’t really all that far from the bed, a comfortable distance for conversation when Markus decides to sit casually on its surface, crossing his arms loosely across his chest.]
What good will that do you? Keeping this all to yourself.
no subject
Noctis.
[The desk isn’t really all that far from the bed, a comfortable distance for conversation when Markus decides to sit casually on its surface, crossing his arms loosely across his chest.]
What good will that do you? Keeping this all to yourself.
[Ah, selective hypocrisy.]