Jedao makes a soft, crushed noise when Eiffel kisses him, and clenches his hands into fists, but he doesn't, doesn't, doesn't let himself flinch.
"I don't even believe it, really," he tries to explain, voice thin and strained. "I just can't stop feeling it. Like. Like your ears still ringing after an explosion."
"Well, that's supposed to stop, eventually," he echoes without realising, leaning against the console again. Still wrapped around Jedao to keep him warm and upright against him. "But... you know, if symptoms persist, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to go see a doctor. People's brains aren't supposed to handle all the bad shit that happens to 'em."
"My psychiatric team recommended I be executed," Jedao says, voice low and steady, in a tone that's hard to place in between mild and flat.
"It's not totally their fault. Bad data. And I was being recalcitrant. I learned a lot from them, actually. But I don't find doctors...healing. As a rule."
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"I don't even believe it, really," he tries to explain, voice thin and strained. "I just can't stop feeling it. Like. Like your ears still ringing after an explosion."
And it'll fade the same way. He hopes.
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"It's not totally their fault. Bad data. And I was being recalcitrant. I learned a lot from them, actually. But I don't find doctors...healing. As a rule."