a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen
He wonders if Loren can see the slight comparison with how Glas has described most people to him. And his head ducks a small amount under the narrowed gaze, feeling almost some frustration with it despite the fact that Loren’s words are supposed to be encouraging. He knows he shouldn’t care, but he does, and that’s a fact he doesn’t know whether or not it’ll change. Ever. So he gnaws on the inside of his cheek, glancing up briefly to look at Loren when he speaks, taking a moment to take a good look at the summoner once more.
And then his green gaze drops to the cup and he takes a sip, one hand still on the medical pack just to have something in his hands. “I’m happiest at the shop.” He manages, surprisingly, without stuttering before he frowns lightly and tilts his head to look at the cup. It’s because there he can be by himself, he can focus on the work he has to do and not worry about anyone else judging him. It was a place with things that he was good at, unlike this.
And then his green gaze drops to the cup and he takes a sip, one hand still on the medical pack just to have something in his hands. “I’m happiest at the shop.” He manages, surprisingly, without stuttering before he frowns lightly and tilts his head to look at the cup. It’s because there he can be by himself, he can focus on the work he has to do and not worry about anyone else judging him. It was a place with things that he was good at, unlike this.
a thousand voices dead at my feet
GLAS
