[ Konstantin pauses at the words, eyes slowly moving from the feather and back over to the other man. He's well-adapted at controlling his expressions, his emotions; to be what he is, a person must be — and yet he can't suppress a certain surprise.
It does sound almost... specifically for him, though he's not necessarily assuming the other man is doing that intentionally. It's more that he feels the weight of the words, things that strike him particularly hard, relevant to his own situation. He's never heard someone say such a thing aloud before, and he's staring in silence.
That's part of it, isn't it. A huge part. He's afraid. Sometimes it's easy to pretend that he isn't, to fall back into the person he was before — strong, capable, unafraid. Commander Veshnyakov. In comparison to how most people would handle suddenly becoming infected with something so.... grotesque, he'd even been able to deal with it almost abnormally well.
...But that was just because he had a goal, which was escape and then to rescue his son, and he was able to fixate on that hard enough that his own upsets didn't matter. He could ignore the constant awareness of this disgusting thing inside of him, play the part needed for the scientists; he could do anything if it meant getting to Aleksei.
But he hates it. Hates what's inside of him, hates what he's become. He's fucking terrified of what might happen to him. And he's terrified to be looked at like some kind of monster. He's supposed to be good. A Hero.
All of this to say that Bigby's words have him pausing for a beat that stretches on maybe a little too long, surprised, taken aback. Then he's blinking, clearing his throat as he looks back down to the feather, taking his eyes away from the other man's. ]
It must have helped him, though. Ultimately. Telling you about it. [ Again, hypothetically, let's say Bigby really is a werewolf, and Vash really was some sort of supernatural being— ]
It meant he wasn't alone in that. I'm sure that he was glad to have you.
no subject
It does sound almost... specifically for him, though he's not necessarily assuming the other man is doing that intentionally. It's more that he feels the weight of the words, things that strike him particularly hard, relevant to his own situation. He's never heard someone say such a thing aloud before, and he's staring in silence.
That's part of it, isn't it. A huge part. He's afraid. Sometimes it's easy to pretend that he isn't, to fall back into the person he was before — strong, capable, unafraid. Commander Veshnyakov. In comparison to how most people would handle suddenly becoming infected with something so.... grotesque, he'd even been able to deal with it almost abnormally well.
...But that was just because he had a goal, which was escape and then to rescue his son, and he was able to fixate on that hard enough that his own upsets didn't matter. He could ignore the constant awareness of this disgusting thing inside of him, play the part needed for the scientists; he could do anything if it meant getting to Aleksei.
But he hates it. Hates what's inside of him, hates what he's become. He's fucking terrified of what might happen to him. And he's terrified to be looked at like some kind of monster. He's supposed to be good. A Hero.
All of this to say that Bigby's words have him pausing for a beat that stretches on maybe a little too long, surprised, taken aback. Then he's blinking, clearing his throat as he looks back down to the feather, taking his eyes away from the other man's. ]
It must have helped him, though. Ultimately. Telling you about it. [ Again, hypothetically, let's say Bigby really is a werewolf, and Vash really was some sort of supernatural being— ]
It meant he wasn't alone in that. I'm sure that he was glad to have you.