[ obviously, he can't agree to that. It's out of his hands. They know it. Is it selfish that they wish he'd at least tell them he'll try? Probably. All of this is selfish, after all - and now he needs to comfort them like this, like they're weak and young...
Then again, maybe they are, next to him.
Despite being made of crystal, the strands that make up their hair are thin enough to maintain an unexpected softness. Cinnabar doesn't try to get away; they just let him pet their head, remembering when Kongou would do this to them a long time ago. It was never any comfort to them - their problems were never the kind that could be soothed with affection. This problem can't be, either. Even so, after a moment or two, they timidly lift a hand, their thin fingers tightly grasping the hem of his sweatshirt, as if they could keep him here by doing so. ]
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[ everything's different for them here... ]
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In which case it mostly comes down to our combat skills. Should I be offended that you don't think I know how to fight?
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[ they hang their head a little bit, their brittle frustration cracking. ]
... If something happened to you, then I...
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I appreciate your concern, Cinnabar.
But in any case, our lives are in danger simply by being here. If anything, being awake from the start makes me safer than most.
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[ they can tell. And he's not wrong - sleeping is dangerous, too - but seeking the killer guarantees danger rather than risking it. ]
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[ their arms shift, moving from crossed to something more like hugging themself. They're worried. No doubt about it. ]
... Don't die. [ a beat. ] Please...
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he just smiles softly, before reaching over to place a hand on their head.]
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Then again, maybe they are, next to him.
Despite being made of crystal, the strands that make up their hair are thin enough to maintain an unexpected softness. Cinnabar doesn't try to get away; they just let him pet their head, remembering when Kongou would do this to them a long time ago. It was never any comfort to them - their problems were never the kind that could be soothed with affection. This problem can't be, either. Even so, after a moment or two, they timidly lift a hand, their thin fingers tightly grasping the hem of his sweatshirt, as if they could keep him here by doing so. ]