[For a moment Black Hat is still, the irritation he's been harboring shifting its focus to the still arachne planted against him. Has Flug somehow lost his soul again? It would be just like him, wouldn't it, unable to keep his grip on the bloody thing-
Then Flug's arms reach up and squeeze him in turn.
He doesn't particularly like this sort of contact, closeness for simple closeness's sake, and he tenses up, bristling. It's not just that alone, though. Flug isn't the only one who is drawing parallels between this and the moment between them prior to... to that tree's taking of him. It's far from a pleasant recollection, but Black Hat doesn't shove Flug away. There's a sense of something, something he can't quite put a name to, a feeling that a small void in what he is, one he hadn't quite noticed, has been refilled again. A bit of himself, returned properly.
And he's somewhat certain Flug is doing this on purpose, and would intentionally drop like a log if he let go. The last thing he needs is for Flug's skull to split open on the floor.]
...in a sense.
[He concedes. After all, were they not responsible for one another's demises? Somehow, that thought is comforting. There's no imbalance leaning in Flug's favor now - the scales are properly stacked once more. More even than he's used to, but that doesn't bother Black Hat quite as much as it should.
His tolerance has limits, though, and Black Hat begins pushing Flug's shoulders, giving the man a hint that he would very much like to not be a resting board much longer.]
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Then Flug's arms reach up and squeeze him in turn.
He doesn't particularly like this sort of contact, closeness for simple closeness's sake, and he tenses up, bristling. It's not just that alone, though. Flug isn't the only one who is drawing parallels between this and the moment between them prior to... to that tree's taking of him. It's far from a pleasant recollection, but Black Hat doesn't shove Flug away. There's a sense of something, something he can't quite put a name to, a feeling that a small void in what he is, one he hadn't quite noticed, has been refilled again. A bit of himself, returned properly.
And he's somewhat certain Flug is doing this on purpose, and would intentionally drop like a log if he let go. The last thing he needs is for Flug's skull to split open on the floor.]
...in a sense.
[He concedes. After all, were they not responsible for one another's demises? Somehow, that thought is comforting. There's no imbalance leaning in Flug's favor now - the scales are properly stacked once more. More even than he's used to, but that doesn't bother Black Hat quite as much as it should.
His tolerance has limits, though, and Black Hat begins pushing Flug's shoulders, giving the man a hint that he would very much like to not be a resting board much longer.]