Clemente
Clem must stifle his giggles at Amun's ridiculous eyebrow acrobatics, amused but reluctant to let the man see it and take it as encouragement. Of all the people in Caido, Amun is the last person who needs any kind of external inspiration to continue being his ridiculous self. Instead he snaps his teeth playfully at the older Ascended as he reaches to ruffle his hair. If it's clear that Clem stays still long enough for it to happen, to relish in the closeness he feels at the motion, at least he can duck his head to conceal the smile that breaks through the surface in a betrayal of his joy. A useless effort as Nate comes along to throw his arms over the boy's shoulders, and he cackles joyously as he shoves at both men weakly. "I'll live in the tunnels in the Grounds, duh! Can't have ya crampin' my style," he lobs back at them with a gleam of mischief in his eyes. He loves them both so much it feels too big to fit in his chest in that moment, and no amount of gross perverted comments can squash it down.
Clemente can't even remember the last time he felt truly safe in a man's grasp, and yet here he is buoyed between the two of them without a care in the world. Which makes it all the easier to rely on them when things take a darker turn as they are suddenly revealed to not be the only ones there. Nate moves to shield him, and Clem doesn't have a heart that can race any longer but his grip flexes nervously on his own pickaxe as flaxen eyes dart around for any other potential weapons. "What should we do?" Voice casts the question low, the tremble of uncertainty revealing his nerves but the strong cut of his shoulders more than making up for it. If they need to fight their way out, Clem isn't going to shy away from doing some damage.
Clemente can't even remember the last time he felt truly safe in a man's grasp, and yet here he is buoyed between the two of them without a care in the world. Which makes it all the easier to rely on them when things take a darker turn as they are suddenly revealed to not be the only ones there. Nate moves to shield him, and Clem doesn't have a heart that can race any longer but his grip flexes nervously on his own pickaxe as flaxen eyes dart around for any other potential weapons. "What should we do?" Voice casts the question low, the tremble of uncertainty revealing his nerves but the strong cut of his shoulders more than making up for it. If they need to fight their way out, Clem isn't going to shy away from doing some damage.
