[Davesprite doesn't move, hackles up and still defensive. A part of him wants to lash out and ignore reason; he knows he's never pulled this shit without intent. He's mad and he's lonely and not all of it has been self-inflicted.
Another part of him is just so fucking tired.
He deflates and folds back up on the roof, arms crossed and propped on his knees.]
Whatever. [It's quiet, but it's acknowledgment, even if he's not sure he's ready to fork over the forgiveness. Especially when he's not sure Dirk should have even apologized to him in the first place.]
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Another part of him is just so fucking tired.
He deflates and folds back up on the roof, arms crossed and propped on his knees.]
Whatever. [It's quiet, but it's acknowledgment, even if he's not sure he's ready to fork over the forgiveness. Especially when he's not sure Dirk should have even apologized to him in the first place.]