And yet, death was the easiest topic of the ones Bazzite presented him with. He fumbled to answer anything else. Barely, he managed to reply, “I don’t really remember anyone but the Court being there. But maybe there was someone else. I didn’t know what was going on, just that something was happening. And I was overwhelmed, and confused, so I know most of my memory is sort of…wishy washy. But they took me home. One of my friends, from before? She was in it. She made sure I was okay. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t had her. But I know that even if we hadn’t been friends, she would have helped me. And I’m sure there are people that would be willing to help you, too—if you wanted to get out of the Negaverse, get out of that skin. I’d help you,” he insisted, but there was doubt on his face.
Not because he wouldn’t try, but because he didn’t think very highly of himself.
He fell quiet and looked to Michel, who simply sighed.
“Yeah,” he said, somewhat begrudgingly. “I’m sure you’d find someone who would help. I guess, maybe I know a few people, if you wind up s**t out of luck with nowhere to go.”
Malus’ face lit up; he looked at Michel with obvious fondness, and while he still seemed clearly insecure, when his gaze returned to Bazzite he still had a faint smile.
Michel scratched his chin though, very aware that Malus had avoided a question that Bazzite had now mentioned twice. “You shouldn’t worry about your General, though. You should worry about yourself. If he cares about you, then you should focus on being you again. If you aren’t a youma, he stops hurting. The bond breaks, and he’s his own person. It hurts, one last time, but. It goes away. He moves on. You move on.”
Lucifer Force
