Clemente
the difference between a garden
and a graveyard
is what we choose to put in the soil
Clem levels a pointed state at Amun, working to keep his lips from twitching. Damn it he's so good at making Clem feel better, which is weird for the pint-sized pervert. "Exactly. It's all 'bout makin' me feel better." Forgiveness isn't a trait he ever really learned, couldn't afford to. Everything fell under one-and-done. Betrayal and stupidity were things that could gete you killed, that nearly killed Rexanna as it was, and even forgiving because The Voice wants them as a cohesive family seems hard. Dick-punching would go a long way to jump-starting his forgiveness though.
Squirreling away the paper, Clem turns his attention to hang on Amun's every word, and if he were in need of breath he'd scarcely be indulging in it. He wants to meet her so badly, to feel this love and acceptance firsthand. "I wanna meet her so bad," he admits softly. "I tried but she was busy. I just...I just wanna know what I can do for her. I wanna help, but 'm just a kid y'know? Did she even mean to make me? What do you think?" It's similar to the worries that had prompted him around Wessex last time, when he'd vowed to be her eyes and ears. But is that enough? It feels like he's not doing enough to thank The Voice for everything she has given him.
