[ Rin, like many young men his age, isn't particularly fond of hospitals. Especially since he's recently spent a slew of days toting his best friend to-and-fro, etc etc etc, which amounts to a lot of tears and time wasted and more along those lines, though at this point everyday life seems like such a distant memory that it's almost irrelevant.
However, his jumpiness regarding everything and sundry related to the medical field has most definitely carried over to this horrorshow of a world; he's about four times as angry and six times as terrified as he might have been had he not woken up to a crazy-ass powerpoint, a collection of scalpels, and a medical chart proclaiming - of all things! - that he had the dreaded swimmer's shoulder. Which he doesn't. He knows. He checked, about twelve times, and each time his shoulder was in better condition than the time before. Other than a leeching of color from his skin turning an even whiter white than usual, but that's par for the course, you know, when you're stuck in a goddamn creepy hospital and a creepy kid suddenly decides that you're food for the monsters. ]
What the hell — [ see, usually Rin has more of a tolerance when it comes to those younger than him; comes with the territory when things like growing-up and captainship are involved, but this. This is something else. This isn't apples and oranges, this is like a fucking h-bomb as compared to oranges, okay. ] What do I look like, some kind of human shield?
[ Because getting angry at a beansprout approximately the size of his pinky finger is obviously the productive thing to do in this situation. Right.
His ire gentles somewhat when he sees the terror on the kid's face, but he's still red-faced and out of breath himself, not doing anything to draw back the angry question he'd tossed out. ]
i.
However, his jumpiness regarding everything and sundry related to the medical field has most definitely carried over to this horrorshow of a world; he's about four times as angry and six times as terrified as he might have been had he not woken up to a crazy-ass powerpoint, a collection of scalpels, and a medical chart proclaiming - of all things! - that he had the dreaded swimmer's shoulder. Which he doesn't. He knows. He checked, about twelve times, and each time his shoulder was in better condition than the time before. Other than a leeching of color from his skin turning an even whiter white than usual, but that's par for the course, you know, when you're stuck in a goddamn creepy hospital and a creepy kid suddenly decides that you're food for the monsters. ]
What the hell — [ see, usually Rin has more of a tolerance when it comes to those younger than him; comes with the territory when things like growing-up and captainship are involved, but this. This is something else. This isn't apples and oranges, this is like a fucking h-bomb as compared to oranges, okay. ] What do I look like, some kind of human shield?
[ Because getting angry at a beansprout approximately the size of his pinky finger is obviously the productive thing to do in this situation. Right.
His ire gentles somewhat when he sees the terror on the kid's face, but he's still red-faced and out of breath himself, not doing anything to draw back the angry question he'd tossed out. ]