Clemente
Her confusion makes him wrong-footed, narrowing his pale eyes at her as if to force the truth from her. Surely she knows? But he’s not bothered by having to spell it out for her at least. His mouth had said - and done - far worse things. ”Means I ain’t havin’ sex with ya, even if it means I get a roof over my head.” Currency didn’t matter much to Clem, not when buying things legally always raised more suspicions and unwanted attention than stealing or haggling. Still, her words make him pause. Safe. A laughable notion, where he’s from. But...he isn’t there anymore. And she calls him - them - Ascended. As if they need a title. ”Why do we need to be called something? It’s just who we are,” he mumbles, clearly confused and perhaps a tad frustrated at the idea of needing to be unnecessarily labelled. Even so, as she moves aside Clem steps forward to fill the space. Certain in his body even if he’s uncertain of his chaperone. There are few changes to his body that he can perceive, and certainly nothing that raises alarm bells just yet.
The idea of a bed is enough to cajole him into movement, and he trails faithfully behind her, a spark returning to his eyes at having a goal in mind. "You’re married?” he inquires, curiosity gnawing like a particularly hungry puppy at his heel. ”Is your partner gonna be mad I’m there?” Clemente’s voice drops to a quiet, self-conscious murmur. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time after all.
i stopped being a kid the day
you sent me down here to die
