Raju's expression softens, if it can be called softening when there's still that thrill to it, that pleasure. It doesn't seem strange, to feel this way after being as frightened as he's ever been in his life; there's momentum in the pendulum still, and Francis wants to live, and so it's swinging back. It isn't a metaphor that really works, he hurts, he wonders if he's going to spend the next few days sore from nothing again. But he can breathe, and Francis is close and alive and touching him and wants to live. The hand that'd been between them had slid downward when Francis had pulled further back and it straightens its fingers and presses gently against Francis' stomach there, wanting to touch, not interested in very much distance just yet.
Raju's expression fades a little behind a thoughtful, distant look when Francis goes on. He's been out that way once, has a sense of where it sits in relation to where they are now, and he's confident that sense is accurate. It's the memory of that thing's noises that are more difficult to go over. Determination settles over Raju's face as his gaze goes distant. He can remember it however he wants; the thing isn't pumping fear into his mind now.
"I wouldn't be surprised," he decides, and studies Francis' face. That sobbing noise that he'd heard from behind him is making sense now, now that he can look back on it without terror crowding out all the space he needs to actually think. Francis cares. Cares enough to mourn whoever it was, even then, feeling the way they had. "Do you want to go that way? It'll be tricky in this dark, but you won't have to wait so long to find out what's happened."
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Raju's expression softens, if it can be called softening when there's still that thrill to it, that pleasure. It doesn't seem strange, to feel this way after being as frightened as he's ever been in his life; there's momentum in the pendulum still, and Francis wants to live, and so it's swinging back. It isn't a metaphor that really works, he hurts, he wonders if he's going to spend the next few days sore from nothing again. But he can breathe, and Francis is close and alive and touching him and wants to live. The hand that'd been between them had slid downward when Francis had pulled further back and it straightens its fingers and presses gently against Francis' stomach there, wanting to touch, not interested in very much distance just yet.
Raju's expression fades a little behind a thoughtful, distant look when Francis goes on. He's been out that way once, has a sense of where it sits in relation to where they are now, and he's confident that sense is accurate. It's the memory of that thing's noises that are more difficult to go over. Determination settles over Raju's face as his gaze goes distant. He can remember it however he wants; the thing isn't pumping fear into his mind now.
"I wouldn't be surprised," he decides, and studies Francis' face. That sobbing noise that he'd heard from behind him is making sense now, now that he can look back on it without terror crowding out all the space he needs to actually think. Francis cares. Cares enough to mourn whoever it was, even then, feeling the way they had. "Do you want to go that way? It'll be tricky in this dark, but you won't have to wait so long to find out what's happened."