[If this were another time and another place, Gladio may have found this whole thing amusing. Not the blood starting to stain Ravus' coat and drip onto the floor - there's nothing adorable about making someone bleed. But watching, feeling Ravus grow more and more frustrated as not a single blow caused anything more than minor discomfort - that is hilarious to him.

With the metal arm limp in his hand, completely torn away from the enraged man still pinned to the wall, Gladio suddenly realizes the fight is pretty much over. Physically, there's nothing left Ravus can do to him and they both know it.]

Weak? Hah, you're the one without an arm. Again. Looks t'me like you're the defective one. [The words rumble out of him as he unceremoniously drops the now-useless arm onto the floor. A mirthless chuckle follows the satisfying 'clank' it makes, Gladio's amber eyes staring directly into Ravus' own heterochromatic gaze.]

They were both better'n that. Better'n us. [Fuck, feelings are coming back. Feelings that aren't rage or blind hatred. And Gladio far too drunk to stop talking now.]

Traded their lives f'r a world that won' understand. An' I failed 'em both. Shloulda been there. Shoulda died instead. [His words get quieter as he speaks, and he leans forward until their bodies press together and they're once again practically nose-to-nose. He's not sure which eye he finds prettier.]

Y'gonna shut up now? Cuz if y'don't I'll shut tha' pretty mouth for you. [Astrals, how the fuck much did he have to drink?!]