[He flusters despite his every wish not to, and the incredulous look he manages to give Sanji is one that feebly asks why wouldn't you. For a moment, with the needling splinters of wood clutched tight between his fingers, he's not sure how to reply. He's never really been good at giving the right replies to questions.
'Change the subject. Pretend everything's better now.'
But he can't bring himself to rekindle enough energy to smile and fake anything. His shoulders just sag and his frown deepens.
action;
'Change the subject. Pretend everything's better now.'
But he can't bring himself to rekindle enough energy to smile and fake anything. His shoulders just sag and his frown deepens.
... He hates himself.]
I wish you would.