The Galaxy Ranger seems to be thinking through everything he's saying. It's likely he doesn't believe him. Aventurine doesn't blame him. Not like he trusts the majority of the IPC.
Right then. More cards on the table.
Then the guy's pupil flares with a snarl, and Aventurine feels the gun press harder against his head. Dammit. Dammit. He needs to think clearer, he needs to think of a winning strategy here, he needs--needs...
The terror is starting to take over, the desperate, almost animalistic need to survive-- a hand pressed to his head to bear his neck for a hot iron against his skin- a knife to his throat in that awful arena that he needs to take and turn the tides with--he needs to wrap the chains around this man's throat if he wants to survive he needs to survive he needs to run he needs to needs to needs to--
Breathe. He really will die if he loses it here.
"It's not pity," Aventurine says, voice getting strained. "More like...commiseration. Ever heard of Sigonia IV? You think I want to work for the corporation that looked away and did nothing while my people were slaughtered? Why do you think I was so willing to 'die' to get out from under their thumb?" He bites back a hysterical laugh-not the time- "You're right. I'm sure my family would be devastated seeing what I've done over the years. My hands are stained. I can't change that. But I'm alive." Not for long, his brain not so helpfully supplies. But he's always lived on borrowed time, hadn't he...and he'd fail them more if he died after everything.
"I wasn't exactly given a choice. It was that or death. Like everyone else." Deep breath in, then out. "And if I died, I wouldn't be able to go after that bastard, now would I?" he all but spits, letting some venom into his voice, letting his own anger rise, just a little. "I got some good information on Schneider while kissing the shoes that kicked me, you know? Someone in the Intelligentsia Guild has been helping me gather information that could...possibly bring that man down for good. I'd even share it with you, gladly. I'd just...need my brains in my head for that." he adds, giving a pointed look at the gun to his head.
no subject
Right then. More cards on the table.
Then the guy's pupil flares with a snarl, and Aventurine feels the gun press harder against his head. Dammit. Dammit. He needs to think clearer, he needs to think of a winning strategy here, he needs--needs...
The terror is starting to take over, the desperate, almost animalistic need to survive-- a hand pressed to his head to bear his neck for a hot iron against his skin- a knife to his throat in that awful arena that he needs to take and turn the tides with--he needs to wrap the chains around this man's throat if he wants to survive he needs to survive he needs to run he needs to needs to needs to--
Breathe. He really will die if he loses it here.
"It's not pity," Aventurine says, voice getting strained. "More like...commiseration. Ever heard of Sigonia IV? You think I want to work for the corporation that looked away and did nothing while my people were slaughtered? Why do you think I was so willing to 'die' to get out from under their thumb?" He bites back a hysterical laugh-not the time- "You're right. I'm sure my family would be devastated seeing what I've done over the years. My hands are stained. I can't change that. But I'm alive." Not for long, his brain not so helpfully supplies. But he's always lived on borrowed time, hadn't he...and he'd fail them more if he died after everything.
"I wasn't exactly given a choice. It was that or death. Like everyone else." Deep breath in, then out. "And if I died, I wouldn't be able to go after that bastard, now would I?" he all but spits, letting some venom into his voice, letting his own anger rise, just a little. "I got some good information on Schneider while kissing the shoes that kicked me, you know? Someone in the Intelligentsia Guild has been helping me gather information that could...possibly bring that man down for good. I'd even share it with you, gladly. I'd just...need my brains in my head for that." he adds, giving a pointed look at the gun to his head.