He'd do a lot more than just fireballs if it didn't mean the safety of the others on board. It's the only reason he hasn't used any spells yet: something in the back of his mind telling him not to that eerily sounds a lot like Ignis' voice. Something he calls a conscience.


Being pushed into the wall is a shock to his system, and the title is like a bucket of cold water being tossed in his face. Tired and panicked blues search green for one good reason why he shouldn't go back out there, and find it. His eyes narrow, not in anger, but distress and grief.

"...Damn it," he mutters, a whole lot packed in the two words. Because Ignis is right, and the one associated with these feelings... It would be harder to wake him up from it. He knows this.

His shoulders sag as his gaze falls. Practically slumping into Ignis' hold as he tries to keep himself from shaking.