[Dazed as he is, Naegi doesn't miss the implication that Togami sounds like he knows what he's talking about. The thought of him experiencing similar dreams twists Naegi's mouth into an unpleasant grimace.]
Wh-whiskey?
[He sounds unsure. Not doubtful, though. For some reason, he finds it helps to keep his eyes locked on Togami's, bright and awake as they are. Grounding.]
Not particularly good whiskey, but it does its job well enough.
[Togami stays put a few moments more, quietly living in the shared contact, before detaching himself entirely to go pursue the mentioned whiskey. His movements are fluid but careful, the cautious dance of someone who has certainly misplaced his glasses.]
...It's bad.
[He doesn't specify what--for all it seems, he's just talking about the alcohol being tipped into two cups--but his voice indicates a kind of deeper solidarity, even if he's bad at conveying comfort.]
[Naegi takes a moment to suck in a few deep, much calmer breaths. He runs his fingers over the textured lines of the armchair. He's awake, again.
...Ah. Maybe Togami is not the best at relaying empathy, but that's alright. It doesn't need to be skillful to be kind, and appreciated. Naegi looks at him with wide eyes, quickly filling with warmth. He stumbles right past any pretense that Togami is just talking about the alcohol, although he doesn't mind if Togami wants to insist that's all he meant.]
It wasn't a service to you--you were moving about so much that I was concerned you were about to pitch yourself back down the stairs. I've seen enough bodies to last me a lifetime.
[Several lifetimes, if he were being more honest in his superbly flimsy excuse. Even beyond the killing game, his intense interest in crime coupled with some events of extreme childhood trauma have saturated him in so much death that he almost smells of it, like a vulture retaining the stench of carrion.
He sits back down after handing off a half-filled glass to Naegi, hands awkwardly fiddling with his own.]
I get the impression that you have, as well.
[It's mocking, nearly, because Naegi remains so outwardly naïve after everything he's seen, but Togami knows when someone is close to cracking.]
[He's more alert and capable of thinking critically now, and the moment Togami woke him is still fresh in his mind. He can see the panic. Hear it, clearly.
Are you dying.
He feels poorly for worrying him, even as Togami insists the opposite is true. Something like fire settles in his eyes as the other boy continues to talk, and that serious voice emerges. That one that belongs to courtrooms and investigations.]
Yes. I never want to see another friend die again.
[Togami was about to unload some un-asked for wisdom about death and the impermanence of existence (or something on that vein, it's always hard to follow what Togami is talking about), but every thought appears to leave his mind as soon as Naegi has his...unforfunate mishap.
And then he laughs.
Almost predictably, it's an unpleasant sound, high and grating and not especially unlike some hostile bird, but it's a laugh nonetheless, and a less evil one than usual, which is its own achievement. He covers his mouth with a hand, though it hardly does anything to help.]
[Togami hides his crooked smile--his imperfect laugh--behind a hand, forcing himself back into a neutral expression, or at least a convincing facsimile of one. He can't quite get it down, though, and so his scathing speech is delivered with a tremulous tone as he tries very, very hard not to laugh again.
He's cold, and apathetic, and possibly the devil, but he's still a teenager-of-sorts, no matter how grown he acts.]
That's no excuse. It's not even that strong. I've been drinking heavier liquor since I was twelve.
[Not...exactly something to be proud of, but he says it like it is.]
[It's incredibly delightful to invoke this sort of reaction in Togami, specifically. Naegi doesn't have past experiences to draw from, so he can't be entirely sure, but it sure as hell sounds like he's still trying not to laugh again. The smile on Naegi's face is a mile wide, and there's no hand attempting to hide it.
That concerning comment doesn't even kill it. Most twelve year olds don't drink heavy liquor! He knows that, right?]
Whether or not it's strong doesn't matter, if I'm not used to it like you!
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Wh-whiskey?
[He sounds unsure. Not doubtful, though. For some reason, he finds it helps to keep his eyes locked on Togami's, bright and awake as they are. Grounding.]
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[Togami stays put a few moments more, quietly living in the shared contact, before detaching himself entirely to go pursue the mentioned whiskey. His movements are fluid but careful, the cautious dance of someone who has certainly misplaced his glasses.]
...It's bad.
[He doesn't specify what--for all it seems, he's just talking about the alcohol being tipped into two cups--but his voice indicates a kind of deeper solidarity, even if he's bad at conveying comfort.]
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...Ah. Maybe Togami is not the best at relaying empathy, but that's alright. It doesn't need to be skillful to be kind, and appreciated. Naegi looks at him with wide eyes, quickly filling with warmth. He stumbles right past any pretense that Togami is just talking about the alcohol, although he doesn't mind if Togami wants to insist that's all he meant.]
Yeah. Thank you for waking me up.
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[Several lifetimes, if he were being more honest in his superbly flimsy excuse. Even beyond the killing game, his intense interest in crime coupled with some events of extreme childhood trauma have saturated him in so much death that he almost smells of it, like a vulture retaining the stench of carrion.
He sits back down after handing off a half-filled glass to Naegi, hands awkwardly fiddling with his own.]
I get the impression that you have, as well.
[It's mocking, nearly, because Naegi remains so outwardly naïve after everything he's seen, but Togami knows when someone is close to cracking.]
1/2
Are you dying.
He feels poorly for worrying him, even as Togami insists the opposite is true. Something like fire settles in his eyes as the other boy continues to talk, and that serious voice emerges. That one that belongs to courtrooms and investigations.]
Yes. I never want to see another friend die again.
2/2
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And then he laughs.
Almost predictably, it's an unpleasant sound, high and grating and not especially unlike some hostile bird, but it's a laugh nonetheless, and a less evil one than usual, which is its own achievement. He covers his mouth with a hand, though it hardly does anything to help.]
You're absolutely pathetic, you know.
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Naegi commits it to memory.
He wipes his face clean with his sleeve, embarrassment and insult blunted by what that genuine laugh has him feeling.]
C-come on! It's not like I drink this stuff a lot!
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He's cold, and apathetic, and possibly the devil, but he's still a teenager-of-sorts, no matter how grown he acts.]
That's no excuse. It's not even that strong. I've been drinking heavier liquor since I was twelve.
[Not...exactly something to be proud of, but he says it like it is.]
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That concerning comment doesn't even kill it. Most twelve year olds don't drink heavy liquor! He knows that, right?]
Whether or not it's strong doesn't matter, if I'm not used to it like you!