[He says that calmly enough, but then a moment later he riles again, his brow furrowing as his own repeated words seem to sink in like a dagger.]
She ain't in this damn world no more, you stupid child!
[Guzma lets the comments about him stinking go unaddressed, they didn't matter. He knew he was a mess right now, and not being one didn't change anything so what did it matter? However, while Guzma's drunk, he isn't blind, and so he noticed how the boy was reaching for his Poké balls—so he uses that hold to pull Sun inside, slamming the door behind them.
This of course leaves Sun pretty jostled and dragged through the air as he moves, carrying the kid like he's nothing over to the couch, and unceremoniously dropping him on the cushions. He levels a glare at the boy, but there's a conflict of emotion behind his eyes.]
...Why's it gotta be you?
[It's pretty vague, but then Guzma seats himself down in one of the chairs, taking a swig of that bottle as he does so. He settles, legs spread while his elbows rest on his knees as he's hunched forward. Hanging his head, he lightly shakes it.]
Why's it gotta be like this, huh? [He lifts his head, just enough to get Sun into his view, his eyes barely visibly pass that mop of hair in his face. With his free hand he gestures as he speaks.] You're here, but you ain't my homie like back home—Plums' here, but she got some messed up feelings about me—now Jill's gone...
Fuck, man. This shit ain't getting easier, and what the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just fuckin' sit here and deal?
[He settles back against the chair with a huff, his body pretty slumped. He looks a little like a ragdoll that was dumped in that chair, even the hand that holds the bottle is pretty loose with its grip as he just... stares at Sun. He wouldn't even be talking this much if he wasn't so fucking drunk at the moment. Drunk and angry... exhausted.
It's not that he even expects sympathy from Sun or anything, there's nothing that's happened between them that would inspire that, but he just doesn't even know what to do. He wants to lash out, he wants to hurt someone, but at the same time he's just... tired.]
I hate that you got his face. His fuckin' voice. It pisses me off that you're him, yet you fuckin' ain't!
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[He says that calmly enough, but then a moment later he riles again, his brow furrowing as his own repeated words seem to sink in like a dagger.]
She ain't in this damn world no more, you stupid child!
[Guzma lets the comments about him stinking go unaddressed, they didn't matter. He knew he was a mess right now, and not being one didn't change anything so what did it matter? However, while Guzma's drunk, he isn't blind, and so he noticed how the boy was reaching for his Poké balls—so he uses that hold to pull Sun inside, slamming the door behind them.
This of course leaves Sun pretty jostled and dragged through the air as he moves, carrying the kid like he's nothing over to the couch, and unceremoniously dropping him on the cushions. He levels a glare at the boy, but there's a conflict of emotion behind his eyes.]
...Why's it gotta be you?
[It's pretty vague, but then Guzma seats himself down in one of the chairs, taking a swig of that bottle as he does so. He settles, legs spread while his elbows rest on his knees as he's hunched forward. Hanging his head, he lightly shakes it.]
Why's it gotta be like this, huh? [He lifts his head, just enough to get Sun into his view, his eyes barely visibly pass that mop of hair in his face. With his free hand he gestures as he speaks.] You're here, but you ain't my homie like back home—Plums' here, but she got some messed up feelings about me—now Jill's gone...
Fuck, man. This shit ain't getting easier, and what the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just fuckin' sit here and deal?
[He settles back against the chair with a huff, his body pretty slumped. He looks a little like a ragdoll that was dumped in that chair, even the hand that holds the bottle is pretty loose with its grip as he just... stares at Sun. He wouldn't even be talking this much if he wasn't so fucking drunk at the moment. Drunk and angry... exhausted.
It's not that he even expects sympathy from Sun or anything, there's nothing that's happened between them that would inspire that, but he just doesn't even know what to do. He wants to lash out, he wants to hurt someone, but at the same time he's just... tired.]
I hate that you got his face. His fuckin' voice. It pisses me off that you're him, yet you fuckin' ain't!