Gyre is, perhaps, better equipped to handle this emotionally, but he doesn't have half the tact he should probably take with it. He's actually a little frustrated that she just completely ignored him, sighing roughly through his nose as he takes a step back and looks down at her. Looks her over.
She looks awful. But while he might not be able to relate to dying forty times (forty-one times?), he did die once. While he can't relate to not being able to sleep at all, he does have near constant insomnia. She's not the only one stuck in a miserable purgatory because of choices they made, and while her choices and her purgatory are both far worse then his that only makes him more insistent.
"Too many people have died already. All you'll do with this is remove the only two people we have who have gone, ah... wherever we're going and know what to expect," he says tersely. "If what you want is to apologize to people for these decades, then help. Rest wherever we end up, and then do the work, with all of us, to rebuild."
He pauses there, and then goes back to what he said before, repeating himself, "I'm not going to leave you behind." This time it's less automatic and there's this heavy, desperate sympathy in it. He cares about her, a lot. More then he might admit to himself. Even if most of what he said was couched in the simple practicality of how much more she knows then them, he also needs her to see the other side of this.
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She looks awful. But while he might not be able to relate to dying forty times (forty-one times?), he did die once. While he can't relate to not being able to sleep at all, he does have near constant insomnia. She's not the only one stuck in a miserable purgatory because of choices they made, and while her choices and her purgatory are both far worse then his that only makes him more insistent.
"Too many people have died already. All you'll do with this is remove the only two people we have who have gone, ah... wherever we're going and know what to expect," he says tersely. "If what you want is to apologize to people for these decades, then help. Rest wherever we end up, and then do the work, with all of us, to rebuild."
He pauses there, and then goes back to what he said before, repeating himself, "I'm not going to leave you behind." This time it's less automatic and there's this heavy, desperate sympathy in it. He cares about her, a lot. More then he might admit to himself. Even if most of what he said was couched in the simple practicality of how much more she knows then them, he also needs her to see the other side of this.