[Definitely not supposed to look like this, no. He hesitates briefly, then tucks the end of the bandage into the rest, declining to unwrap it all for the moment. Warmer, honestly, until she's done with her questions. That's what he'll tell himself, anyway. Nothing to do with not really wanting to be seen like this.]
No, it doesn't hurt. But one of the doctors said I should use bandages to try and prevent infections, where they come out of the skin. It's...
[Grotesque. Horrifying. He hangs his head, then sweeps a hand through his hair and tosses his hat aside in the process.]
Remember when I was gone a few days at the start of the month?
Yeah. Jason Grace and I tried to test out the boat I had finished, but the creatures in the water had other ideas. I woke up in the church a few days later, like this.
[He'll spare her the gory details, even though he suspects she can handle them given her particular affinity for blood and violence. She shouldn't have to indulge that side of her, and he doesn't want to feed it, but he accepts that it's there, at least. It's his self-declared job to provide her something more normal - since otherwise, she hasn't had much opportunity for that.
Of course, looking like this, it's hard to keep up the illusion that he's succeeding at all. He's as monstrous as anything else here now.]
[It's obvious she doesn't understand. His disgust, his insecurity. He's still Rosi, after all. Beautiful, beautiful Rosinante. For her own sanity, Mary seems to decide not to linger on the revelation that she died. He's not dead now, so that's what matters.]
[I'm afraid, but he doesn't want to admit that to her. Not when he's supposed to be strong and responsible and able to look after her and everyone else here. Doesn't want to burden her with the knowledge that her protector is afraid of something that has happened to him and that could happen to anyone here. Afraid of how others would react. Afraid of what it means to be visually, obviously dead, since before he could at least pretend sometimes that he was still alive and well.
At least Mary isn't upset because part of him had definitely imagined her running from the room screaming if she ever found out.]
It's... a big change. It's going to take some time to get used to, and I'm not sure I ever will. And I don't want people to be scared of me. It doesn't really look... normal.
[Mary could understand the sentiment--all of it, really, but the idea of people being afraid of Rosi, especially because he looks different--she can't help but shout, trying to make herself tall.]
Nobody can ever be afraid of you! Because you're nice and you're beautiful, and you'll always be beautiful!
[He startles slightly at the shout and watches her, wide-eyed but expression softening as he reprimands him in probably the most endearing way possible.
He's beautiful?
He's tall and awkward, covered in scars and old burns and now enclosed in ribs that should have stayed where they were. He's always thought of himself as unattractive - nothing special at best, mildly repulsive at worst on days when he loathes himself slightly more than normal. It's only gotten worse since this change, and now insecure doesn't even cover it. He's disgusted by how he looks to himself. How could anyone find him beautiful?
Tears are welling at his eyes before he even realizes it, and he swallows hard. His voice comes out as a whisper.]
Nice of you to say, but I don't think many would agree with that, Mary.
[She comes closer, now, climbing up onto the mattress to be even a little closer to him in height. It isn't much, but it's something. Mary watches him, eyes intense.]
I've seen frightening things. I've known them, and I've loved them. You're not like them at all, and you wouldn't be, even if your whole body changed. You'd still be the same beautiful person that you've always been.
[She's a little like him in that perhaps she loves too easily, even when she shouldn't. It's a dangerous trait that he tries to keep under control, knowing how easily he gets wrapped up in other people and their emotions. He gets attached and can't let go. It's not something he usually receives in turn.
Here he is, only bandaged on the lower half of his torso, ribs curving across his chest, and not only does she not mind, she's coming closer. He dips his chin and shuts his eyes tight as if that's going to stop him crying over this. She's so kind and so genuine that it hurts.]
Thank you.
[It comes out as a quiet, choked sound and he's afraid to say more as tears roll down his cheeks. He has always cried too easily.]
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No, it doesn't hurt. But one of the doctors said I should use bandages to try and prevent infections, where they come out of the skin. It's...
[Grotesque. Horrifying. He hangs his head, then sweeps a hand through his hair and tosses his hat aside in the process.]
Remember when I was gone a few days at the start of the month?
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[Because when he's gone, she always thinks he'll never come back again.]
Something bad happened, didn't it?
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[He'll spare her the gory details, even though he suspects she can handle them given her particular affinity for blood and violence. She shouldn't have to indulge that side of her, and he doesn't want to feed it, but he accepts that it's there, at least. It's his self-declared job to provide her something more normal - since otherwise, she hasn't had much opportunity for that.
Of course, looking like this, it's hard to keep up the illusion that he's succeeding at all. He's as monstrous as anything else here now.]
no subject
[It's obvious she doesn't understand. His disgust, his insecurity. He's still Rosi, after all. Beautiful, beautiful Rosinante. For her own sanity, Mary seems to decide not to linger on the revelation that she died. He's not dead now, so that's what matters.]
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[I'm afraid, but he doesn't want to admit that to her. Not when he's supposed to be strong and responsible and able to look after her and everyone else here. Doesn't want to burden her with the knowledge that her protector is afraid of something that has happened to him and that could happen to anyone here. Afraid of how others would react. Afraid of what it means to be visually, obviously dead, since before he could at least pretend sometimes that he was still alive and well.
At least Mary isn't upset because part of him had definitely imagined her running from the room screaming if she ever found out.]
It's... a big change. It's going to take some time to get used to, and I'm not sure I ever will. And I don't want people to be scared of me. It doesn't really look... normal.
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[Mary could understand the sentiment--all of it, really, but the idea of people being afraid of Rosi, especially because he looks different--she can't help but shout, trying to make herself tall.]
Nobody can ever be afraid of you! Because you're nice and you're beautiful, and you'll always be beautiful!
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He's beautiful?
He's tall and awkward, covered in scars and old burns and now enclosed in ribs that should have stayed where they were. He's always thought of himself as unattractive - nothing special at best, mildly repulsive at worst on days when he loathes himself slightly more than normal. It's only gotten worse since this change, and now insecure doesn't even cover it. He's disgusted by how he looks to himself. How could anyone find him beautiful?
Tears are welling at his eyes before he even realizes it, and he swallows hard. His voice comes out as a whisper.]
Nice of you to say, but I don't think many would agree with that, Mary.
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[She comes closer, now, climbing up onto the mattress to be even a little closer to him in height. It isn't much, but it's something. Mary watches him, eyes intense.]
I've seen frightening things. I've known them, and I've loved them. You're not like them at all, and you wouldn't be, even if your whole body changed. You'd still be the same beautiful person that you've always been.
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Here he is, only bandaged on the lower half of his torso, ribs curving across his chest, and not only does she not mind, she's coming closer. He dips his chin and shuts his eyes tight as if that's going to stop him crying over this. She's so kind and so genuine that it hurts.]
Thank you.
[It comes out as a quiet, choked sound and he's afraid to say more as tears roll down his cheeks. He has always cried too easily.]
I'm - I'm glad you're here.
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I'll never leave you, Rosinante, so don't be sad.
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We'll take care of each other.
[And here he had thought he was protecting her the whole time, but it seems things go both ways after all.]