it might've been a nightmare

a thousand faces staring at me, a thousand times i've fallen

A quick nod is given to Loren, pausing from wringing his hands to push back his blonde hair from his face, ghosting along the scar. His shoulders remain a small amount hunched, however, and he focuses on drawer and everywhere else except for where the summoner drifts around the shop. It isn’t until Loren is moving back to him that his gaze drops closer to the ground this time, offering another nod, hands behind his back.

But he spies the bag that’s held out, heart lurching and gut churning with the idea of it. A start, really, to learn but… Yet… At the same time it almost feels like a small handout, and he’s not sure exactly what to do with it. He could take it back, claim that Loren wouldn’t let him leave without it, and then what? What would his father have to say? That Glas couldn’t step away from it?

Probably more along the lines of being weak, blaming it on the cannibals some more, probably drink a bit more to forget about it. And Glas’ gaze drifts up to Loren, something shadowed in the green gaze that doesn’t shy away at first from Loren when he goes to speak. “I… I want to Sir – uh Loren.”  He begins, dropping his gaze again because it’s easier to talk when he’s not making eye contact. “But I can’t…” He hopes that’s good enough, as he waits, swallowing hard against the worry that eats at him.

a thousand voices dead at my feet

GLAS