Soft laughter burbled up from Psii's throat, the sort of dark chuckling he couldn't help when something awful struck him as particularly funny. He hadn't expected Reporter Roland to ask him that. In a way, Psii and Initiate shared the same horrible sense of humor, even if Initiate had a track record of being far nicer than when he first arrived in Panem. Signless could and should answer his half of the question, but Psii saw no reason why he should wait for that when his laughter would need to be explained. They were pretending to be on live TV, after all.
The clown. Psii had voiced plenty of opinions on record about the clown's past infatuation with his future self. He was on his merry way to repeating them, citing his obvious loathing recorded onscreen, and even thinking of the time he'd demanded Initiate stop hiding things from him and receiving no satisfactory answer.
But even as he spoke, Psii had to wonder what made him laugh in the first place. The clown was neutralized, no longer the threat Psii had feared him to be at the start. But somewhere along the line, perhaps in the dingy alley while throwing spades at Signless between plotting rebellion, he'd filed him as an ally. Initiate straddled the no-man's land between Psii's hatred of clowns and his compassion for people in general. Initiate was someone he'd kill under the right circumstances, and someone he trusted just enough not to kill him under the right circumstances. Hilarious. Psii had wanted nothing to do with him. Now, any chance of--no, he didn't dare use the word reconciliation--truce was lost.
"You can't thay he wouldn't laugh, too, if he could. Clownth love thith kind of awful ironic painful bullshit. Future me wath hith diamond in the patht, and current me ithn't. I've alwayth thaid the Helmsman ith the latht thing I want to be. On Alternia, trollth like him picked on trollth like me. I thtill have the thcarth. You schlubth actually think I would want to take hith orderth? Fucking hilariouth. In the Tribute hivethtem, I mothtly yelled or hithed at the clown when I couldn't avoid hith creepy gaze altogether. Thothe of you without actheth to thecret camerath, jutht look up footage of me and him in the latht arena. I look like I want to puke the whole time. Now.... I thtill do. I feel that way whenever I look at an Avox."
All true if taken at face value. Psii didn't have to dissemble there. Pretending he was being interviewed by glittery simpletons helped him keep a casual, crass tone, at odds with the grim way he clutched Signless's hand under the pile of sequins. He couldn't hold his hand forever, metaphorically, so he finally let it go. But Signless's distress upset Psii more than he wanted to let on. He didn't want to leave the comfort of the pile just yet.
"SS, unfortunately, didn't have the benefit of my traumatic clown-related hindthight. But I wath blind, too. I thought the wortht I had to fear wath a friend in a bad relationship. I wath wrong. I'm thorry, Panem. I should have been more watchful."
no subject
The clown. Psii had voiced plenty of opinions on record about the clown's past infatuation with his future self. He was on his merry way to repeating them, citing his obvious loathing recorded onscreen, and even thinking of the time he'd demanded Initiate stop hiding things from him and receiving no satisfactory answer.
But even as he spoke, Psii had to wonder what made him laugh in the first place. The clown was neutralized, no longer the threat Psii had feared him to be at the start. But somewhere along the line, perhaps in the dingy alley while throwing spades at Signless between plotting rebellion, he'd filed him as an ally. Initiate straddled the no-man's land between Psii's hatred of clowns and his compassion for people in general. Initiate was someone he'd kill under the right circumstances, and someone he trusted just enough not to kill him under the right circumstances. Hilarious. Psii had wanted nothing to do with him. Now, any chance of--no, he didn't dare use the word reconciliation--truce was lost.
"You can't thay he wouldn't laugh, too, if he could. Clownth love thith kind of awful ironic painful bullshit. Future me wath hith diamond in the patht, and current me ithn't. I've alwayth thaid the Helmsman ith the latht thing I want to be. On Alternia, trollth like him picked on trollth like me. I thtill have the thcarth. You schlubth actually think I would want to take hith orderth? Fucking hilariouth. In the Tribute hivethtem, I mothtly yelled or hithed at the clown when I couldn't avoid hith creepy gaze altogether. Thothe of you without actheth to thecret camerath, jutht look up footage of me and him in the latht arena. I look like I want to puke the whole time. Now.... I thtill do. I feel that way whenever I look at an Avox."
All true if taken at face value. Psii didn't have to dissemble there. Pretending he was being interviewed by glittery simpletons helped him keep a casual, crass tone, at odds with the grim way he clutched Signless's hand under the pile of sequins. He couldn't hold his hand forever, metaphorically, so he finally let it go. But Signless's distress upset Psii more than he wanted to let on. He didn't want to leave the comfort of the pile just yet.
"SS, unfortunately, didn't have the benefit of my traumatic clown-related hindthight. But I wath blind, too. I thought the wortht I had to fear wath a friend in a bad relationship. I wath wrong. I'm thorry, Panem. I should have been more watchful."