[It's a painful thing, hearing words like that - but he doesn't feel he has any right to scold. Not when he'd easily trade his own life for... many of the people here, honestly.
Still, there's no hiding the little stinging pang he feels when he hears that, or the way the melancholy seems to rise up a bit in that swirling undercurrent of emotions that hovers below his anger. His hands fold together, fingers twisting.]
...Please don't say such a thing.
[It isn't scolding so much as plaintive, though some guilt accompanies it. Humans really do end up playing favorites quite often, don't they? There's no way he could say that he'd rather Mandricardo continue living even though it means the deaths of others around them, as true as it is. So he just says, quietly:]
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Still, there's no hiding the little stinging pang he feels when he hears that, or the way the melancholy seems to rise up a bit in that swirling undercurrent of emotions that hovers below his anger. His hands fold together, fingers twisting.]
...Please don't say such a thing.
[It isn't scolding so much as plaintive, though some guilt accompanies it. Humans really do end up playing favorites quite often, don't they? There's no way he could say that he'd rather Mandricardo continue living even though it means the deaths of others around them, as true as it is. So he just says, quietly:]
Your death would have been mourned as well.