[This close, there's no hiding the irritation that creases his features- it's a knot between his brows and a tight pull at the corners of his mouth. He's never considered himself careless or heroic enough to be accused of playing the martyr- coming to the Quad had always been about doing what he had to in order to survive and the far off dream of being able to go home at some point- to fix things. To make them right.
He isn't planning to throw himself into the fray in some misguided attempt to save Westerley from the caste system that's broken it down, he's just. Noctis' gaze cuts away.]
You're the one with the supplies. That was a sell to get you out there.
[Not into the fray, but at least to a medical tent. Westerley has never had enough to go around, and this explosion, implosion will bring more of the same. Noctis doesn't have the means or ability to offer anything worthwhile- but Royce does.]
no subject
He isn't planning to throw himself into the fray in some misguided attempt to save Westerley from the caste system that's broken it down, he's just. Noctis' gaze cuts away.]
You're the one with the supplies. That was a sell to get you out there.
[Not into the fray, but at least to a medical tent. Westerley has never had enough to go around, and this explosion, implosion will bring more of the same. Noctis doesn't have the means or ability to offer anything worthwhile- but Royce does.]