[Junpei makes a face up at the ceiling and says nothing; his gut instinct is to snap back about how maybe not talking about this stuff is how he keeps it from hitting Charles in the face, but that's already demonstrably been proven false, hasn't it? His stupid fucking plan during the Gnosia incident, which he explained like an idiot... Fine, maybe it would have come out eventually, anyway. Fine.]
Okay, fine, it freaks me out, whatever.
[Half-mumbled, like if he doesn't say it too loud he doesn't have to actually acknowledge it, doesn't have to look these particular truths in the eye. He really doesn't know where to start, besides; Charles is mad at him about this thing, he's gotten that. Which part? How many details does he really want, or would an abridged version let Junpei go back to putting it in a box and ignoring it?
No, that isn't fair. He won't do that to Charles. The enormity of the thing is one he's carried around for months and yet somehow it feels even heavier now, sitting on his chest while he frowns at the ceiling with no idea where to start chipping away at it. No one has ever asked him to before; he was relying on Charles again to tell him where to start, but that too is unfair.
Ultimately he holds his hands up, two loose fists. He will count on his fingers, as rote and dispassionate as he can manage:]
Bracelet needles. Head in the freezer. Exploding collar. [ah, it's already terrible, and he speeds it up to just get it out faster,] Acid shower, poisoned, exploded, exploded, Gatling guns, Gatling guns a second time unless you want to start talking about probability, forgot an exploded, gassed, stabbed in the gut and left to get the fucking plague or something which I'm including because it pissed me off, one more explosion...
[He pauses; he's been dutifully holding up fingers for each one but not actually counting along. There's another implied explosion he could mention, but you know what... he doesn't want to for some reason. He puts his hands down.]
Pick one, I don't know. I really don't know what you want me to tell you.
no subject
Okay, fine, it freaks me out, whatever.
[Half-mumbled, like if he doesn't say it too loud he doesn't have to actually acknowledge it, doesn't have to look these particular truths in the eye. He really doesn't know where to start, besides; Charles is mad at him about this thing, he's gotten that. Which part? How many details does he really want, or would an abridged version let Junpei go back to putting it in a box and ignoring it?
No, that isn't fair. He won't do that to Charles. The enormity of the thing is one he's carried around for months and yet somehow it feels even heavier now, sitting on his chest while he frowns at the ceiling with no idea where to start chipping away at it. No one has ever asked him to before; he was relying on Charles again to tell him where to start, but that too is unfair.
Ultimately he holds his hands up, two loose fists. He will count on his fingers, as rote and dispassionate as he can manage:]
Bracelet needles. Head in the freezer. Exploding collar. [ah, it's already terrible, and he speeds it up to just get it out faster,] Acid shower, poisoned, exploded, exploded, Gatling guns, Gatling guns a second time unless you want to start talking about probability, forgot an exploded, gassed, stabbed in the gut and left to get the fucking plague or something which I'm including because it pissed me off, one more explosion...
[He pauses; he's been dutifully holding up fingers for each one but not actually counting along. There's another implied explosion he could mention, but you know what... he doesn't want to for some reason. He puts his hands down.]
Pick one, I don't know. I really don't know what you want me to tell you.