He winces once because Ekkehardt's right. It's just, put like that, it sounds even worse. He doesn't even think to try and argue.
But the rest throws him.
"Self... ish...?" He repeats like it's a foreign word. He already figured he was rather selfish. He didn't see it as a good trait.
The cigarette holder taps his skull with a soft whap and sends him blinking, bewildered. He stares at Ekkehardt, unsure what to say. For all he's bad at reading Ekkehardt, for all the truths he can't find in himself, he's not actually sure how he missed that one. But it touches him, giving his phantom heart a squeeze.
A faint laugh slips and he sets the guitar aside. He moves. And he throws his boney arms around Ekkehardt.
no subject
But the rest throws him.
"Self... ish...?" He repeats like it's a foreign word. He already figured he was rather selfish. He didn't see it as a good trait.
The cigarette holder taps his skull with a soft whap and sends him blinking, bewildered. He stares at Ekkehardt, unsure what to say. For all he's bad at reading Ekkehardt, for all the truths he can't find in himself, he's not actually sure how he missed that one. But it touches him, giving his phantom heart a squeeze.
A faint laugh slips and he sets the guitar aside. He moves. And he throws his boney arms around Ekkehardt.
"Gracias."