The Sentinels come to my arms, my beamish boy!

thank you! :)

whether sugar is as anxious to escape the situation as he is is, truthfully, not something that registers. caligula has spent long enough this way that he simply assumes of everyone how they will react to his presence, an assumption that has existed for so long that to him it is nothing less than a fact.

“yes, i… yes.” even with escape looming, he is not any more coherent. it should not be a surprise, but a little frustration rises in the back of his mind anyways. this has also existed for so long that he should be used to it; somehow, however, searching for words never becomes less frustrating after the panic has drained away.

what is far more alien is her exit. perhaps it is silly to be surprised at such a thing, but caligula has…not been the most sociable creature, to put it lightly, and what sociability he has managed to retain has not been sufficient to make anything in the realm of a positive impression. he blinks as she lingers there, watching him for a moment, too preoccupied for the moment to find the near eye contact uncomfortable; then she is gone, back into the rain.

“thank you,” caligula says again, though the words come long after she has vanished. he stands for a moment longer before turning himself around, on automatic, and padding away into the trees.