The new closer proximity to the blond made him uncomfortable, given their topic of debate just then--especially since he could no longer look Quatre in the eye if they were sitting in such a way--and he turned, watching his partner protectively cover the scar he knew existed at that one spot on the other teenager's belly.
Trowa couldn't help remembering how he'd first found out about it and shut his eyes, nearly feeling as though it was no longer his privilege to have such memories; even if he did have the right to think about it, it didn't seem right to do so. Not considering what he was saying, and in any case, things like that were what had altered his emotional state. Made him as weak and soft as he'd gotten. Brought them to the point that they were now at, where continuing could only cause more problems than ceasing altogether.
The cold did a great deal to help him shut those thoughts off and he forced himself back to the focus with which he was comfortably familiar, using it to push past the guilt that Quatre's words were trying so hard to inspire--to ignore the hurt and the confusion in the other's voice and keep to the facts. Keep his own feelings out of it. They complicated everything far too much, and he had enough of a bad time trying to get his thoughts out of his mind and into the air in front of other people as it was.
"If we have to go back, I can't fight--not like this. I need to be the way I was."
Certainly the truth, that; what good was a soldier that sympathized with his enemies? That tried to help a Decepticon instead of destroying it? What use was someone who hesitated in battle when a mere second was all it took to be a pile of scorched scrap metal instead of the biggest walking armory on the block?
"And I'm--"
Trowa chewed on his own words for a few moments, trying to tell the truth without being insulting. He knew Quatre wouldn't listen to him if he came off that way; would probably derail the entire issue into his ability to protect himself and about how he was always too worried and smothering about the ramifications of his work as a double agent.
"--They're not--Some of them won't hesitate. To use you against me. Maybe hurt you."
The boy gestured to Starscream, who had just burst into flight overhead.
"He'll do it because it's fun."
Trowa allowed himself to glare with hatred--with full-on, fiery, unchained pent-up rage--at the Seeker for a good few seconds before twisting the heat out of his anger and replacing it with the colder kind, easier to control and far less problematic to bottle up again.
So much would be different--would be better--if Starscream didn't exist.
Shockwave would become less of an uncontrollable variable; for better or worse, Trowa would be able to finally pin his intentions down. Skyfire wouldn't need to be walked around on eggshells for fear of ruining that contact. Soundwave could be free to leave himself to his more human side and explore broader concepts of loyalty and family. Winner Corp. would have less competition for superiority. Waspinator would no longer need to fear quite so much. His eardrums would be less tormented by every time the bot posted. And trying to ensure all of these things would not require him to put Quatre directly in harm's way just by association, never mind that the blond hadn't actually done anything other than help Trowa with the original construction of the fake Cybertronian.
rubbish, rubbish. even if that's so, we all have our off moments
Trowa couldn't help remembering how he'd first found out about it and shut his eyes, nearly feeling as though it was no longer his privilege to have such memories; even if he did have the right to think about it, it didn't seem right to do so. Not considering what he was saying, and in any case, things like that were what had altered his emotional state. Made him as weak and soft as he'd gotten. Brought them to the point that they were now at, where continuing could only cause more problems than ceasing altogether.
The cold did a great deal to help him shut those thoughts off and he forced himself back to the focus with which he was comfortably familiar, using it to push past the guilt that Quatre's words were trying so hard to inspire--to ignore the hurt and the confusion in the other's voice and keep to the facts. Keep his own feelings out of it. They complicated everything far too much, and he had enough of a bad time trying to get his thoughts out of his mind and into the air in front of other people as it was.
"If we have to go back, I can't fight--not like this. I need to be the way I was."
Certainly the truth, that; what good was a soldier that sympathized with his enemies? That tried to help a Decepticon instead of destroying it? What use was someone who hesitated in battle when a mere second was all it took to be a pile of scorched scrap metal instead of the biggest walking armory on the block?
"And I'm--"
Trowa chewed on his own words for a few moments, trying to tell the truth without being insulting. He knew Quatre wouldn't listen to him if he came off that way; would probably derail the entire issue into his ability to protect himself and about how he was always too worried and smothering about the ramifications of his work as a double agent.
"--They're not--Some of them won't hesitate. To use you against me. Maybe hurt you."
The boy gestured to Starscream, who had just burst into flight overhead.
"He'll do it because it's fun."
Trowa allowed himself to glare with hatred--with full-on, fiery, unchained pent-up rage--at the Seeker for a good few seconds before twisting the heat out of his anger and replacing it with the colder kind, easier to control and far less problematic to bottle up again.
So much would be different--would be better--if Starscream didn't exist.
Shockwave would become less of an uncontrollable variable; for better or worse, Trowa would be able to finally pin his intentions down. Skyfire wouldn't need to be walked around on eggshells for fear of ruining that contact. Soundwave could be free to leave himself to his more human side and explore broader concepts of loyalty and family. Winner Corp. would have less competition for superiority. Waspinator would no longer need to fear quite so much. His eardrums would be less tormented by every time the bot posted. And trying to ensure all of these things would not require him to put Quatre directly in harm's way just by association, never mind that the blond hadn't actually done anything other than help Trowa with the original construction of the fake Cybertronian.
"...I don't want that."