His heart is pounding in his head, drumming into every corner of it. Something tastes metallic in his mouth, and Esteban has to shudder through a few breaths to realize his eyes are open-- unfocused-- and tears are leaking at the corners, crawling past the headset and down along his throat. Another breath heaves through tangled lungs, before he repeats the question, misinterpreting it.
"Are y' there?" he calls out again, hoarse and strained but not willing to let it go.
Please. He promised. He promised that things would be alright, he can't just give up now.
"Y' miss your hoard, an' I get it, I do."
'Dians how could he express it? How could he make the train realize just how much he understand that void filling up the spaces where light used to be. The thread is broken, snapped and burning where Esteban had been holding it, but he's never been good at picking up social cues anyways, not even those as painful as the lash they've received for it. He needs water, and he feels sick and lightheaded, but the half-elf pushes these aside to try again.
"But we miss our friends. We're worried 'bout them. We're willin' t' try anythin' t' get them back, an' tellin' us off isn't gonna make us stop. We'll just try again, with 'r without you. So work with us!" If he has to beg, he will, just please be there. Please listen. "Open the doors an' let us help."
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His heart is pounding in his head, drumming into every corner of it. Something tastes metallic in his mouth, and Esteban has to shudder through a few breaths to realize his eyes are open-- unfocused-- and tears are leaking at the corners, crawling past the headset and down along his throat. Another breath heaves through tangled lungs, before he repeats the question, misinterpreting it.
"Are y' there?" he calls out again, hoarse and strained but not willing to let it go.
Please. He promised. He promised that things would be alright, he can't just give up now.
"Y' miss your hoard, an' I get it, I do."
'Dians how could he express it? How could he make the train realize just how much he understand that void filling up the spaces where light used to be. The thread is broken, snapped and burning where Esteban had been holding it, but he's never been good at picking up social cues anyways, not even those as painful as the lash they've received for it. He needs water, and he feels sick and lightheaded, but the half-elf pushes these aside to try again.
"But we miss our friends. We're worried 'bout them. We're willin' t' try anythin' t' get them back, an' tellin' us off isn't gonna make us stop. We'll just try again, with 'r without you. So work with us!" If he has to beg, he will, just please be there. Please listen. "Open the doors an' let us help."