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[ Yzak stops, lifting his head back up to look at him, concerned. ]
Hey. [ Hand on his side pausing in its movements, he's suddenly ready to hold him up if he sways. His other hand slides to his shoulder. ] You okay?
Hey. [ Hand on his side pausing in its movements, he's suddenly ready to hold him up if he sways. His other hand slides to his shoulder. ] You okay?
Mnh... [he sags a little - as much as Yzak's hold lets him - brow furrowing as he holds his next breath for a beat before letting it out.] Too much air, perhaps...made my head swim. [his head dips resting against Yzak's while he waits out the static.]
Forgive me. Just for a moment... It happens...after a long rest. [gee and getting all sauced up that quickly probably has something to do with it, too.]
Forgive me. Just for a moment... It happens...after a long rest. [gee and getting all sauced up that quickly probably has something to do with it, too.]
[ Pressing his head back to Blue's, he holds him up just enough to be comfortable. ]
It's fine. [ This is exactly why he wanted to make sure Blue didn't feel obligated to push himself for his sake. His well being is way more important than some fooling around! ] You were out for nearly a day and a half.
-do you need some water? Something to eat?
It's fine. [ This is exactly why he wanted to make sure Blue didn't feel obligated to push himself for his sake. His well being is way more important than some fooling around! ] You were out for nearly a day and a half.
-do you need some water? Something to eat?
Not in the least.
[ So did he, but he's ever a man of the right priorities, even if he's horned up.
Yzak climbs back up to his feet, slowly pulling his hands away from Blue once he's sure he'll be able to sit up for a second. And then he goes to fetch him a glass of water, some of their rations, and some ... meaty looking things. ]
The rations we have, or snake jerky. Take your pick.
[ He holds both out to Blue, eyes still watching him closely. ]
The snakes are edible - actually edible. So we don't have to worry about running out of what we have anymore.
[ So did he, but he's ever a man of the right priorities, even if he's horned up.
Yzak climbs back up to his feet, slowly pulling his hands away from Blue once he's sure he'll be able to sit up for a second. And then he goes to fetch him a glass of water, some of their rations, and some ... meaty looking things. ]
The rations we have, or snake jerky. Take your pick.
[ He holds both out to Blue, eyes still watching him closely. ]
The snakes are edible - actually edible. So we don't have to worry about running out of what we have anymore.
[the worst of the haze has passed, but Blue is still drained, expression drawn. it doesn't feel great, having to cut off such pleasant interaction regardless of the reason...and especially this reason.
still, he is quiet and forcibly patient, aware of the mounting concern and pivot of focus coming from Yzak. it's not unlike that focus that would come from his Mu peers...it just lacks that undercurrent of anxiety regarding their own fates, should he fail them. no - Yzak's anxiety is a different color and frequency.
he takes the glass, having a couple small sips, brow furrowing. his throat really was dry, so that helps...but the sight of food, especially in light of all the distressing food-talk, doesn't really stir up an appetite.
after another sip:] There's...supplements. On the nightstand. Can you get them...? In a pouch...
still, he is quiet and forcibly patient, aware of the mounting concern and pivot of focus coming from Yzak. it's not unlike that focus that would come from his Mu peers...it just lacks that undercurrent of anxiety regarding their own fates, should he fail them. no - Yzak's anxiety is a different color and frequency.
he takes the glass, having a couple small sips, brow furrowing. his throat really was dry, so that helps...but the sight of food, especially in light of all the distressing food-talk, doesn't really stir up an appetite.
after another sip:] There's...supplements. On the nightstand. Can you get them...? In a pouch...
[ Supplements rather than some of the food? His frown dips some, but it's still ... something, isn't it? Better than nothing at all. With an acknowledging nod, Yzak does as requested, trading the food for the pouch.
It's easy enough to find in their new, slightly smaller space. Yzak took it upon himself to grab everything they had in their former lodging, so the room looks a little less bare now. ]
Here.
[ As he moves to sit down next to Blue on the bed, he hands the pouch to him. ]
It's easy enough to find in their new, slightly smaller space. Yzak took it upon himself to grab everything they had in their former lodging, so the room looks a little less bare now. ]
Here.
[ As he moves to sit down next to Blue on the bed, he hands the pouch to him. ]
[Blue murmurs his thanks, setting the pouch on his lap so he can get one of the pellets out, taking it with some water.
while he's doing so:] They stand in for a day's worth of food...so this should be enough, unless I find myself with an appetite for snake. [he smiles wanly over at Yzak.]
...I'm sorry. For worrying you. Even if it's only natural to.
while he's doing so:] They stand in for a day's worth of food...so this should be enough, unless I find myself with an appetite for snake. [he smiles wanly over at Yzak.]
...I'm sorry. For worrying you. Even if it's only natural to.
[ Sending him a look back as he does that. ] It's actually not as horrible as it sounds. At least, not when I prep it.
And even if it was, I wouldn't be complaining about it anyway. [ Not in this kind of situation, at least. Not when the alternative seemed so dire.
He exhales, leaning back, voice a little calmer. ]
It's fine. As long as it helps.
And even if it was, I wouldn't be complaining about it anyway. [ Not in this kind of situation, at least. Not when the alternative seemed so dire.
He exhales, leaning back, voice a little calmer. ]
It's fine. As long as it helps.
[Blue rests the glass in his lap, holding it with both hands, eyes downcast on it and the pouch still there.
after a few beats of silence:] Next time...you visit Doctor McCoy... I ought to go as well, I think. Just to be safe.
[because as burdensome as it all makes him feel, Blue doesn't want to make himself worse just out of pride. he can't be prideful for himself in this way, not with so much at stake for everyone else.]
after a few beats of silence:] Next time...you visit Doctor McCoy... I ought to go as well, I think. Just to be safe.
[because as burdensome as it all makes him feel, Blue doesn't want to make himself worse just out of pride. he can't be prideful for himself in this way, not with so much at stake for everyone else.]
I was planning on going very soon, anyway. So we can do that.
[ There's some relief mixed in with the concern. ]
Are you feeling okay? Or, any better?
[ There's some relief mixed in with the concern. ]
Are you feeling okay? Or, any better?
[ HE GOT U BABE. Which means sliding over and leaning to place both on the nearby table. And then sliding back in Blue's direction, giving him a contemplative once over and crossing his arms.]
You should relax for now, until it kicks in properly.
You should relax for now, until it kicks in properly.
[Blue feels a small beat of disappointment when he glimpses Yzak's posture closing up in his peripheral. it may be just practiced and comfortable for him, but...well...he can't really hang onto Blue when he's doing that, too!
he sighs gently, looking down at his own hands in his lap.]
...Yes. I will. [because what else can he do.]
he sighs gently, looking down at his own hands in his lap.]
...Yes. I will. [because what else can he do.]
Good.
[ A beat, as he hears that little sigh. And his own voice softens some more. ]
You better not feel bad or anything.
[ A beat, as he hears that little sigh. And his own voice softens some more. ]
You better not feel bad or anything.
No!
...
[ God damn it. ]
Okay, fine, maybe a little.
Just don't let it bother you that much! Because it's fine!
It's. It's not like it was a one time chance or something.
...
[ God damn it. ]
Okay, fine, maybe a little.
Just don't let it bother you that much! Because it's fine!
It's. It's not like it was a one time chance or something.
[that knee-jerk response and backpedal pulls a little smile out of Blue, some of the unintended severity watering to softer tones on his features. there's a little color left behind by that tail-end remark.]
No? [he tilts his head a little.] That's a relief to hear.
No? [he tilts his head a little.] That's a relief to hear.
[ He's also coloring when Blue calls that a relief. ]
Why would it be!?
I mean - [ That gets him to uncross his arms at least, so he can wave a hand. ] I don't think you can give a rain check for something like that! Can you...?
[ His voice gets a little higher because he's not really well versed in discussing a convenient time to do something like this. ] I'm just saying it's not off the table so I can do it any time!
[ And after blurting that out, he looks mortified because that made him sound like some kind of salacious bastard man. ]
Why would it be!?
I mean - [ That gets him to uncross his arms at least, so he can wave a hand. ] I don't think you can give a rain check for something like that! Can you...?
[ His voice gets a little higher because he's not really well versed in discussing a convenient time to do something like this. ] I'm just saying it's not off the table so I can do it any time!
[ And after blurting that out, he looks mortified because that made him sound like some kind of salacious bastard man. ]
[Yzak's flustering...it's really endearing. Blue breathes out a little laugh, shaking his head amidst the embarrassment radiating out of this man. this kind of fuss isn't terrible, this little struggle to be clear and confident in the face of some clear unknowns...]
I understand. [he catches the errant hand that had been stalled by mortification in the midst of the gesture, gently grasping it in both of his and bringing it over to him. he gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he smiles at Yzak.] And I'm glad. Thank you.
I understand. [he catches the errant hand that had been stalled by mortification in the midst of the gesture, gently grasping it in both of his and bringing it over to him. he gives it a gentle, reassuring squeeze as he smiles at Yzak.] And I'm glad. Thank you.
[ It's hard to politely offer your intention to go to the bone zone at any time when you're still so unsure about so many things.
Blue's laugh and the touch of his hand help ease that fluster a little (a little, because those little things still cause similar, fluttering feelings within Yzak). Especially because... ]
Obviously that's not all I'm interested in, here!
[ Because Blue's reaction brings Yzak back around to the fact that laughing and smiling means he's feeling better than he was a few minutes ago. And that's ... far more important to him. Those two intentions colliding do cause him to wonder, though. Offering up that sort of intimate physicality, allowing his hand to be grasped and taken like this, so easily, when he's always so guarded. There are reasons for it, reasons why he only allows Blue to do it like this.
He likes him. A lot. (d a n g e r o u s)
Feeling warm hands around his, Yzak gives a small, quick squeeze back to emphasize what he says. ]
I'm far more relieved that you seem to be feeling better now.
Blue's laugh and the touch of his hand help ease that fluster a little (a little, because those little things still cause similar, fluttering feelings within Yzak). Especially because... ]
Obviously that's not all I'm interested in, here!
[ Because Blue's reaction brings Yzak back around to the fact that laughing and smiling means he's feeling better than he was a few minutes ago. And that's ... far more important to him. Those two intentions colliding do cause him to wonder, though. Offering up that sort of intimate physicality, allowing his hand to be grasped and taken like this, so easily, when he's always so guarded. There are reasons for it, reasons why he only allows Blue to do it like this.
He likes him. A lot. (d a n g e r o u s)
Feeling warm hands around his, Yzak gives a small, quick squeeze back to emphasize what he says. ]
I'm far more relieved that you seem to be feeling better now.
（ you pull a body from the water. its skin is cold, the color and consistency of candlewax.
you check the wrist anyway, for a pulse. force of habit. you try not to look at the pieces of him that fish have eaten away.
if you're my friend, shisui had said, in a steady voice, you won't try and stop me.
you watched him fall. all the way down. you know he was still alive when he hit the water, you could feel his chakra. but he never surfaced. you waited. you hoped. you wanted him to want to live. you wanted him to put an arm around your shoulders and tell you that everything was going to work out, that he'd handle it, that you weren't alone. you are twelve years old and you feel younger. you're twelve years old and you feel ancient.
the chakra flickers out. it disappears. there is an empty, aching hole where its warmth used to live in you, that you barely noticed at all until its absence.
you find the body days later, when gaseous bloat brings it back to the surface, and you drag it ashore. nothing about this is clean or neat or tidy. you do not remember the last time you were around anything other than a freshly killed corpse, where loosened bowels are the predominant smell over the unmistakable cling of rot. you can't.
you look at it for a long time. this hollow, bloated husk of what used to be your best friend. and you are angry. the feeling takes a moment to identify, one of many that you've tried your best to excise, but once you name it it becomes a conflagration. you are angry. you are furious. you are heartsick and betrayed and terrified and fucking ill with everything you feel, all at once.
you are sick beside the corpse, but you haven't eaten enough to bring up anything but stomach acid and bile. your fingers churn messy in the muck and the dirt and you want to howl into the earth and curse what the river stole from you.
i can't do this alone, you tell the body. but it is silent, and eventually you burn it down to nothing. the gift he gave you, the black fire amaterasu.
you huddle next to the flame as it burns, arms wrapped around your knees. your mind is anything but silent or still, but it's only when the first fingers of dawn peel back the darkness that you move.
__
your want to memorize your father's face.
you know you will. the sharingan is blessed (is cursed) with perfect recall. you will remember every line. every scar. the faint silvering at his temples. you will remember the way he smells and the sound of his laughter and the pride he has always spoken of you with.
you look at him every day for a month like it's the last time.
your parents know something is wrong. you were never emotive, never open, but now you are sullen. your mother tries to ask, is this about shisui-san? and you have to lie to her. no, you say. we weren't close. i hadn't spoken to him since before spring. you are good at it. she believes you.
at night you steal into your little brother's room and watch him sleep, curled on the floor beside his futon, already begging the forgiveness you will never be able to ask for aloud. i'm sorry, you whisper into the dark, again and again and again. forgive me.
__
danzō shimura is an old man. he walks with a cane he does not need. he is stooped and wrapped in bandages, half of his face obscured beneath them. you know that one of shisui's eyes is beneath the bandages. you can almost feel it, that little spark of his chakra left in the world. you fantasize about cutting it out of danzō's head while he begs you for the mercy he did not show shisui.
you must avert civil war. i'm sorry, itachi, there is no other way. this is what shisui would want.
you are not strong enough to fight this man.
if you die, there will be no one standing between he and your brother. you should fight anyway. the cowardice bites at you. but your desire to protect what you have left is stronger than your desire for revenge.
later, you fold shisui's suicide note over and over in your hands, as if by some miracle it will become origami, a thousand cranes, and grant the wish of shisui's return to you.
you put on your armour for the last time.
__
you are standing over three bodies. your mother is slumped over your father, their blood mingles on the mats.
the third of the bodies is breathing, but barely. your vision is blurred. your hands are trembling. the exhaustion of killing dozens of people has set into your bones. killing is hard work. not every blow landed cleanly. not every kinsman died quickly. you are dripping blood on the floor, congealing in messy, glassy ponds.
you put your sword away bloody for the first time. distantly, you are annoyed at yourself. you've ruined the saya.
distantly, you are horrified at yourself, that you care about ruining the saya.
you stand there until madara grabs you roughly and pulls you away. things become a whirlwind, you hold very little thought in your mind except that you cannot let him see you cry. you have your anbu mask back on. it will be the last time you wear this, too.
tears dampen the inside of the mask. you can taste the ones that catch messy on your mouth as you suck hollow gasping breaths. everything around you smells like salt and shit and death and you want to die more acutely than you ever have before in your life, you want to crawl into the shrine of your ancestors and wail like a child.
your father has asked you to look after sasuke. you will try.
__
the dream darkens. deepens.
you are watching as danzō slits your brother's throat. you should have done everything i asked, he says, sounding contrite as the knife catches on sasuke's trachea. somehow it is not enough to ensure he cannot speak, and you hear him desperately begging you, asking you why even as blood floods down his front and the rictus grin at his throat gapes broadly open.
(it never happened. you went back to konoha a final time to ensure it didn't. yet the terror that builds in you is so absolute, so oppressive that it startles you awake — ) ）
you check the wrist anyway, for a pulse. force of habit. you try not to look at the pieces of him that fish have eaten away.
if you're my friend, shisui had said, in a steady voice, you won't try and stop me.
you watched him fall. all the way down. you know he was still alive when he hit the water, you could feel his chakra. but he never surfaced. you waited. you hoped. you wanted him to want to live. you wanted him to put an arm around your shoulders and tell you that everything was going to work out, that he'd handle it, that you weren't alone. you are twelve years old and you feel younger. you're twelve years old and you feel ancient.
the chakra flickers out. it disappears. there is an empty, aching hole where its warmth used to live in you, that you barely noticed at all until its absence.
you find the body days later, when gaseous bloat brings it back to the surface, and you drag it ashore. nothing about this is clean or neat or tidy. you do not remember the last time you were around anything other than a freshly killed corpse, where loosened bowels are the predominant smell over the unmistakable cling of rot. you can't.
you look at it for a long time. this hollow, bloated husk of what used to be your best friend. and you are angry. the feeling takes a moment to identify, one of many that you've tried your best to excise, but once you name it it becomes a conflagration. you are angry. you are furious. you are heartsick and betrayed and terrified and fucking ill with everything you feel, all at once.
you are sick beside the corpse, but you haven't eaten enough to bring up anything but stomach acid and bile. your fingers churn messy in the muck and the dirt and you want to howl into the earth and curse what the river stole from you.
i can't do this alone, you tell the body. but it is silent, and eventually you burn it down to nothing. the gift he gave you, the black fire amaterasu.
you huddle next to the flame as it burns, arms wrapped around your knees. your mind is anything but silent or still, but it's only when the first fingers of dawn peel back the darkness that you move.
__
your want to memorize your father's face.
you know you will. the sharingan is blessed (is cursed) with perfect recall. you will remember every line. every scar. the faint silvering at his temples. you will remember the way he smells and the sound of his laughter and the pride he has always spoken of you with.
you look at him every day for a month like it's the last time.
your parents know something is wrong. you were never emotive, never open, but now you are sullen. your mother tries to ask, is this about shisui-san? and you have to lie to her. no, you say. we weren't close. i hadn't spoken to him since before spring. you are good at it. she believes you.
at night you steal into your little brother's room and watch him sleep, curled on the floor beside his futon, already begging the forgiveness you will never be able to ask for aloud. i'm sorry, you whisper into the dark, again and again and again. forgive me.
__
danzō shimura is an old man. he walks with a cane he does not need. he is stooped and wrapped in bandages, half of his face obscured beneath them. you know that one of shisui's eyes is beneath the bandages. you can almost feel it, that little spark of his chakra left in the world. you fantasize about cutting it out of danzō's head while he begs you for the mercy he did not show shisui.
you must avert civil war. i'm sorry, itachi, there is no other way. this is what shisui would want.
you are not strong enough to fight this man.
if you die, there will be no one standing between he and your brother. you should fight anyway. the cowardice bites at you. but your desire to protect what you have left is stronger than your desire for revenge.
later, you fold shisui's suicide note over and over in your hands, as if by some miracle it will become origami, a thousand cranes, and grant the wish of shisui's return to you.
you put on your armour for the last time.
__
you are standing over three bodies. your mother is slumped over your father, their blood mingles on the mats.
the third of the bodies is breathing, but barely. your vision is blurred. your hands are trembling. the exhaustion of killing dozens of people has set into your bones. killing is hard work. not every blow landed cleanly. not every kinsman died quickly. you are dripping blood on the floor, congealing in messy, glassy ponds.
you put your sword away bloody for the first time. distantly, you are annoyed at yourself. you've ruined the saya.
distantly, you are horrified at yourself, that you care about ruining the saya.
you stand there until madara grabs you roughly and pulls you away. things become a whirlwind, you hold very little thought in your mind except that you cannot let him see you cry. you have your anbu mask back on. it will be the last time you wear this, too.
tears dampen the inside of the mask. you can taste the ones that catch messy on your mouth as you suck hollow gasping breaths. everything around you smells like salt and shit and death and you want to die more acutely than you ever have before in your life, you want to crawl into the shrine of your ancestors and wail like a child.
your father has asked you to look after sasuke. you will try.
__
the dream darkens. deepens.
you are watching as danzō slits your brother's throat. you should have done everything i asked, he says, sounding contrite as the knife catches on sasuke's trachea. somehow it is not enough to ensure he cannot speak, and you hear him desperately begging you, asking you why even as blood floods down his front and the rictus grin at his throat gapes broadly open.
(it never happened. you went back to konoha a final time to ensure it didn't. yet the terror that builds in you is so absolute, so oppressive that it startles you awake — ) ）
Edited 2022-02-04 05:30 (UTC)
[well before Blue can account for himself as himself, separate from what his unconscious mind has just been subject to, the response is pulled out of him: the psionic feedback is inevitable and instant, sharp and piercing in tone and sensation. it comes with a single cry:]
No--
[being so aggressively shaken awake breaks that subconscious link, but the memories and reverberations it had stirred within remain; there will be no forgetting this. not a chance.
even awake, the smell of blood is in his nose, and his throat is quickly tight from panic and a rapidly-growing sorrow. Blue brings his hands to his face as his eyes begin to well up, stifling an anguished sound.
it's already settling in him, those layers of memory and emotion. they're coming to rest in places already seeded with grief and fury and torment and terror. the recoil is only in their unpleasantness, not their foreignness, but as the realization of their origin settles in, Blue is taken by a fresh chill.
how...did this happen...?]
No--
[being so aggressively shaken awake breaks that subconscious link, but the memories and reverberations it had stirred within remain; there will be no forgetting this. not a chance.
even awake, the smell of blood is in his nose, and his throat is quickly tight from panic and a rapidly-growing sorrow. Blue brings his hands to his face as his eyes begin to well up, stifling an anguished sound.
it's already settling in him, those layers of memory and emotion. they're coming to rest in places already seeded with grief and fury and torment and terror. the recoil is only in their unpleasantness, not their foreignness, but as the realization of their origin settles in, Blue is taken by a fresh chill.
how...did this happen...?]
（ he did not mean to dream.
generally, his discipline is such that he need not concern himself with such things. he rarely sleeps deeply enough to fall into subconscious imaginings, and even when he does — mastery of genjutsu is preceded by mastery of self. he does not have the luxury of dreaming about the massacre — if he said anything, or woke in a state of distress, there would be no explaining why to kisame. akatsuki work in teams because they are meant to be a knife at one another's throats, and kisame's blade would bite deeply.
but the fight in which he saved jim left him on the knife's edge of exhaustion, body ravaged by illness and the mission's malnutrition, and in the wake of the attack he — slipped.
the memories are a flood, and though he is only aware of blue's presence in hindsight he feels horrified at the thought of what he's now seen. how much, how long? it's impossible to say. itachi, who as a concession had allowed himself to sleep in the cellar beneath the medical clinic, wakes drenched in sweat, gasping for air so violently it triggers another coughing fit. his ribs are a too-tight band around his lungs and blood dapples his palms as he coughs, shoulders trembling as he fights to suppress it. the last thing he needs is someone hearing him.
he does manage to quell it, eventually. but with that dealt with, he now has to force his thoughts to blue. he considers reaching out mentally, discards it. instead, he heaves himself ill-advisedly to his feet, one hand along the wall. his vision is still more darkness than light, but memory serves where sight cannot — he knows where blue is, and goes to him.
it's a slow process. every few meters his condition forces him to stop, lean into the nearest wall and catch his breath. but eventually —
he does not know why he came. what he intended to say. there had been some distant thought that perhaps he should simply kill him — he could very well make it look like an accident, the natural course of blue's life at its end. but as he stands there, oriented towards the sound of blue's breathing, he finds he's too worn down even to threaten him. he already knows blue won't say anything to anyone else, it isn't his way. trusting in that is — difficult, but not impossible. and itachi has always done impossible things.
instead: ）
What did you see?
（ it's a tired, curious rasp. it's not accusatory. rationally, he knows it's no more blue's fault than his own, and he is too exhausted to be angry about it. he just has to know before he decides what should be done. ）
generally, his discipline is such that he need not concern himself with such things. he rarely sleeps deeply enough to fall into subconscious imaginings, and even when he does — mastery of genjutsu is preceded by mastery of self. he does not have the luxury of dreaming about the massacre — if he said anything, or woke in a state of distress, there would be no explaining why to kisame. akatsuki work in teams because they are meant to be a knife at one another's throats, and kisame's blade would bite deeply.
but the fight in which he saved jim left him on the knife's edge of exhaustion, body ravaged by illness and the mission's malnutrition, and in the wake of the attack he — slipped.
the memories are a flood, and though he is only aware of blue's presence in hindsight he feels horrified at the thought of what he's now seen. how much, how long? it's impossible to say. itachi, who as a concession had allowed himself to sleep in the cellar beneath the medical clinic, wakes drenched in sweat, gasping for air so violently it triggers another coughing fit. his ribs are a too-tight band around his lungs and blood dapples his palms as he coughs, shoulders trembling as he fights to suppress it. the last thing he needs is someone hearing him.
he does manage to quell it, eventually. but with that dealt with, he now has to force his thoughts to blue. he considers reaching out mentally, discards it. instead, he heaves himself ill-advisedly to his feet, one hand along the wall. his vision is still more darkness than light, but memory serves where sight cannot — he knows where blue is, and goes to him.
it's a slow process. every few meters his condition forces him to stop, lean into the nearest wall and catch his breath. but eventually —
he does not know why he came. what he intended to say. there had been some distant thought that perhaps he should simply kill him — he could very well make it look like an accident, the natural course of blue's life at its end. but as he stands there, oriented towards the sound of blue's breathing, he finds he's too worn down even to threaten him. he already knows blue won't say anything to anyone else, it isn't his way. trusting in that is — difficult, but not impossible. and itachi has always done impossible things.
instead: ）
What did you see?
（ it's a tired, curious rasp. it's not accusatory. rationally, he knows it's no more blue's fault than his own, and he is too exhausted to be angry about it. he just has to know before he decides what should be done. ）
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