[ Ryo had been stubborn for as long as he could remember. He'd always picked peculiar hills to die on to those from the outside, striking up a sole and singular connection which he protected with all of his might. People would comment occasionally that there was nothing particularly unique or special about them, but they learned soon to never comment on it again.
But, they're not here and Ryo's passions are still passions, but the rebellion in him can be passed off as a typical, teenage anger — something inherent in many his age and something permanent in those like him, built into his coding despite it being aberrant, despised. It would call to question why it was even there at all, but Ryo couldn't tell something he'd yet to know, yet to rediscover.
And so, it's only a small frown that gathers at the corners of his mouth, nothing more as the conversation thread is left to drop and 76 opts instead to join him. Despite all of Ryo's tougher talk, he seems much more a startled animal up close. His gaze checks where only where 76 moves, where he idles beside him. Where the tension in the lines of his body was notable before, it now gathers up in his shoulders — painful and tight. Yet, it seems like 76 really isn't much the cause of it. More, it seems like it a compound of complex issues he hasn't put forth like the inner workings of the bike, sprawled in a neat array about him. ]
I would be more surprised if it wasn't, [ he says after a moment, voice just the same as before despite his manner. He knows his own wars, his own battles. He was one half of a ragtag team set out to save the world, set out to save each other from the Hell his father's inheritance had unfurled to them. But, still, Ryo's pale eyes flit to 76's, brief and wary as he sets back to work again inside the bike. The tools are only what he has available here on BASE, accessible to all. Despite his lack of knowledge, he works steadily and with a focused precision. His hands are thankfully long and slender enough to have no issue manipulating small wires and parts. ]
There's only a handful of tools, [ he says, almost suddenly as he takes his hands from the guts of the engine with a screwdriver and a piece that looks a bit like a carburetor — or close enough to one that Ryo seems to be able to work out that it operates similarly. He pauses, his hands now coated in something akin to grime and oil, and hesitates before he picks up a few implements laid at his other side. The way he holds them out to 76 — a wrench, pliers, and another screwdriver — is like a quiet acceptance all on its own. ] Not that these will be enough to fix it. [ He glances away, thoughtful. ] The lines need to be replaced too.
no subject
But, they're not here and Ryo's passions are still passions, but the rebellion in him can be passed off as a typical, teenage anger — something inherent in many his age and something permanent in those like him, built into his coding despite it being aberrant, despised. It would call to question why it was even there at all, but Ryo couldn't tell something he'd yet to know, yet to rediscover.
And so, it's only a small frown that gathers at the corners of his mouth, nothing more as the conversation thread is left to drop and 76 opts instead to join him. Despite all of Ryo's tougher talk, he seems much more a startled animal up close. His gaze checks where only where 76 moves, where he idles beside him. Where the tension in the lines of his body was notable before, it now gathers up in his shoulders — painful and tight. Yet, it seems like 76 really isn't much the cause of it. More, it seems like it a compound of complex issues he hasn't put forth like the inner workings of the bike, sprawled in a neat array about him. ]
I would be more surprised if it wasn't, [ he says after a moment, voice just the same as before despite his manner. He knows his own wars, his own battles. He was one half of a ragtag team set out to save the world, set out to save each other from the Hell his father's inheritance had unfurled to them. But, still, Ryo's pale eyes flit to 76's, brief and wary as he sets back to work again inside the bike. The tools are only what he has available here on BASE, accessible to all. Despite his lack of knowledge, he works steadily and with a focused precision. His hands are thankfully long and slender enough to have no issue manipulating small wires and parts. ]
There's only a handful of tools, [ he says, almost suddenly as he takes his hands from the guts of the engine with a screwdriver and a piece that looks a bit like a carburetor — or close enough to one that Ryo seems to be able to work out that it operates similarly. He pauses, his hands now coated in something akin to grime and oil, and hesitates before he picks up a few implements laid at his other side. The way he holds them out to 76 — a wrench, pliers, and another screwdriver — is like a quiet acceptance all on its own. ] Not that these will be enough to fix it. [ He glances away, thoughtful. ] The lines need to be replaced too.