[there are a lot of things Red would like to do right now, all of which involve a hefty amount of screaming and would no doubt be very healthy at all in the long run, though he has neither the energy nor motivation for such things. "drained" is as close as one can get to describing what he's feeling right now; "small", too. from the beginning of
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Nah, it would come back with time. For now, she'll just sit down next to him.]
Are you okay?
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given his current state, it's better than nothing.]
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She tries again, this time phrasing her query differently. Maybe if she starts a conversation...]
Is something wrong?
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[talkative one, isn't he? but, of course, the best way to answer that question is with another: what isn't wrong? he bites his tongue, attempting to choose his words carefully before eventually resigning himself to giving up entirely.]
...Nothing. Just felt like being alone.
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His voice is tired and hoarse.] Blue?
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[pot, kettle, black]
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Gonna poke your depressed knee with a candy cane.]
Hey.
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or not. mostly he's just sitting there, not responsive at all to any poking save for a tiny barely audible grunt as he tries to inch away.]
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Geez, what happened to your Christmas spirit? [said in a quiet, horribly guilty tone, because she has no right to talk.]
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It...really wasn't there to begin with. [hunches his shoulders] Maybe I'll have better luck next year.
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How...how are you? Did something happen...
...to you too?
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What did he leave for you? [concern, though subdued, is in his voice regardless.]
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S-sorry.
It was...it was food.
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Food? [sharper] Poison?
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He's just holding a box of coal because he feels like it, okay.]
It's far too cold to be sitting outside, Red.
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I didn't notice.
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There's snow on the ground. ["Dumbass."]
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[that much is true. one of the perks to living on Mt. Silver. going alone with his expression, his voice is rather...curt.]
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