[She yells back, tells him not to scream at her, and Guzma sets his teeth together, jaw clenched and muscles tense. His pulse pounds in his ears, and he's sure there's a vein throbbing somewhere, pumping blood to his face and making him look red - like some sort of fiery devil. That's what he is, that's what he does - he yells. He yells and is scary, angry, and bad. Big Bad Guzma...it's not just a title for show, it's the truth. He opens his mouth, ready to combat her thinking, to tell her to shut up and get out of his head, but...but she goes on.
Some trash can be treasure.
He remembers the same girl - did he ever really learn her name? Maybe, but he's forgotten by now, or just can't think straight at all. But he does remember the young girl and her love for seemingly useless things - things he'd so easily discard, or toss aside. Broken things, things with missing pieces, empty dolls, with their stuffing pulled out...and nothing left inside. He says nothing, and turns away again, away from her, hands shoved into his pockets. He says nothing, because he believes that to be true, but he doesn't want to associate himself with that - with treasure. It goes against everything he was told about himself, from childhood. What's right anymore?
People love him, that's true, too. Those idiots he took in - his grunts; his brothers and sisters, they may have been afraid of him when he was upset, but they all adored him, didn't they? There was always one - the one who loved to make those fluffy pancakes and sweet berry cakes, who'd always try her new recipes on him. Because she knew how much he loved sweets - and she'd always get so happy any time he cleaned his plate, or asked for more.
And then there was Plumeria, who had been with him through it all - his right hand, his admin, his second in command. The big sister of Team Skull, and his best friend. She knew how to talk to him, how to deal with him, and how to calm him down when he was about to blow his top. She could put him in his place, and he'd even allow it - because he trusted her so much. If she was the sister of team skull, then she was his sister as well, and he couldn't have been more happy to call her that.
He turns, looks back, uncertainly, when Luna goes on. I care. I still care. The anger seems to roll off him, slowly, as he's brought back down from his crazed high. The silence that persists, as she goes on and on, is dense, and heavy, but Guzma doesn't interrupt - he listens to it all, lets it soak in, and...and--]
G-Go away... [It's a tired, broken gasp of air, forced out from his lungs like a cough. It sounds wet, too, and Guzma tenses his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. Heat burns behind his lids; he wants to wake up. He wants to wake up and...and do what? Run away? Run away, like he did before? Take the emergency exit out of here? It's cowardly, but--] Just leave me alone.
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Some trash can be treasure.
He remembers the same girl - did he ever really learn her name? Maybe, but he's forgotten by now, or just can't think straight at all. But he does remember the young girl and her love for seemingly useless things - things he'd so easily discard, or toss aside. Broken things, things with missing pieces, empty dolls, with their stuffing pulled out...and nothing left inside. He says nothing, and turns away again, away from her, hands shoved into his pockets. He says nothing, because he believes that to be true, but he doesn't want to associate himself with that - with treasure. It goes against everything he was told about himself, from childhood. What's right anymore?
People love him, that's true, too. Those idiots he took in - his grunts; his brothers and sisters, they may have been afraid of him when he was upset, but they all adored him, didn't they? There was always one - the one who loved to make those fluffy pancakes and sweet berry cakes, who'd always try her new recipes on him. Because she knew how much he loved sweets - and she'd always get so happy any time he cleaned his plate, or asked for more.
And then there was Plumeria, who had been with him through it all - his right hand, his admin, his second in command. The big sister of Team Skull, and his best friend. She knew how to talk to him, how to deal with him, and how to calm him down when he was about to blow his top. She could put him in his place, and he'd even allow it - because he trusted her so much. If she was the sister of team skull, then she was his sister as well, and he couldn't have been more happy to call her that.
He turns, looks back, uncertainly, when Luna goes on. I care. I still care. The anger seems to roll off him, slowly, as he's brought back down from his crazed high. The silence that persists, as she goes on and on, is dense, and heavy, but Guzma doesn't interrupt - he listens to it all, lets it soak in, and...and--]
G-Go away... [It's a tired, broken gasp of air, forced out from his lungs like a cough. It sounds wet, too, and Guzma tenses his shoulders, eyes squeezed shut. Heat burns behind his lids; he wants to wake up. He wants to wake up and...and do what? Run away? Run away, like he did before? Take the emergency exit out of here? It's cowardly, but--] Just leave me alone.
[He needs to think.]