[Between the sharp ache through his shoulders at raising his arm and the surge of conflicting, confusing sensations Gladio's hand falls away. Not jerking back but not able to force himself to maintain the discomfort and endure the sensory overload all at once. The physical discomfort is sidelined quickly enough because that question hurts so much more.
That does make him flinch back, hurt and confused only to clench his jaw, more determined by the moment.]
C'mon Tory... you know me.
Gladio? Shield? You gave me an' Iggy our Chocobos?
y'all are killin me
That does make him flinch back, hurt and confused only to clench his jaw, more determined by the moment.]
C'mon Tory... you know me.
Gladio? Shield? You gave me an' Iggy our Chocobos?