There's too little of a reaction. He feels like he missed a step somewhere along the line. He didn't manage to say it right, he didn't manage to convey it; but he's not sure where the missing step is. Inigo is nudging him along, sure but... it feels more like he showed him an art project than a piece of his soul.
Did he misrepresent it? Did he not explain it well enough? Where is it that he's missing something? It's very disappointing to him that he'd messed up that badly somewhere but it keeps him grounded at the same time. He's fallen, he's failed. Now he has to try again.
Carefully. He has to try again, carefully, because if he tosses words out right now that don't mean enough, he might never actually say it. And-- to begin with, this was not about his hoard, Dead Guardians in a ditch, everything about this went wrong didn't it?
Still staring out at the papers before him, there's a soft downturn to Esteban's lips, and they thin a bit, reflecting on his own failed attempt. It holds for a moment, his thoughts getting the better of him, but he smooths the furrow between his brows quickly enough, manages a gentle nudge back, shoulder to shoulder as he nods at his friend.
Try again. He can try again.
He starts with a light hum, somewhat agreeing, but not quite as firm as another sound might convey. "Mm. I'm just doin' part of my hoard right now." He grins, but the lack of energy is downright strange to see on him, for how little he is bouncing about this, a more gentle kind of warmth rather than his eager sunlight. "The whole of it would be too much, an' some of them 're just fondness rather than missin' them."
His words are running in circles in his head, and his constant stumbling is tripping him up even more. He just wanted to tell Inigo the truth. He just wanted to trust him with it, tell him, because Inigo deserves to know. But the words clog at his mouth and he doesn't know where to start.
He keeps on opening and closing his mouth, taking a breath to speak up and then changing his mind because it's not working out as well as he wants. He's thinking too hard about it, and he really should just blurt out the first words that come to mind but that seems crass and stilted and those words are long-gone by now. He couldn't find them if he tried.
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Did he misrepresent it? Did he not explain it well enough? Where is it that he's missing something? It's very disappointing to him that he'd messed up that badly somewhere but it keeps him grounded at the same time. He's fallen, he's failed. Now he has to try again.
Carefully. He has to try again, carefully, because if he tosses words out right now that don't mean enough, he might never actually say it. And-- to begin with, this was not about his hoard, Dead Guardians in a ditch, everything about this went wrong didn't it?
Still staring out at the papers before him, there's a soft downturn to Esteban's lips, and they thin a bit, reflecting on his own failed attempt. It holds for a moment, his thoughts getting the better of him, but he smooths the furrow between his brows quickly enough, manages a gentle nudge back, shoulder to shoulder as he nods at his friend.
Try again. He can try again.
He starts with a light hum, somewhat agreeing, but not quite as firm as another sound might convey. "Mm. I'm just doin' part of my hoard right now." He grins, but the lack of energy is downright strange to see on him, for how little he is bouncing about this, a more gentle kind of warmth rather than his eager sunlight. "The whole of it would be too much, an' some of them 're just fondness rather than missin' them."
His words are running in circles in his head, and his constant stumbling is tripping him up even more. He just wanted to tell Inigo the truth. He just wanted to trust him with it, tell him, because Inigo deserves to know. But the words clog at his mouth and he doesn't know where to start.
He keeps on opening and closing his mouth, taking a breath to speak up and then changing his mind because it's not working out as well as he wants. He's thinking too hard about it, and he really should just blurt out the first words that come to mind but that seems crass and stilted and those words are long-gone by now. He couldn't find them if he tried.