[ He knows it -- before he even makes contact with the words at all, if only from Ouma's expression alone, he can tell he won't like if he reads it. And something grips him, twisting in his stomach akin to nausea as he does so regardless, because the truth stays the truth just like always, no matter how much you avoid it. Before he knows it, his fingers are twisting around Ouma's wrist through his sleeve, separating his hand from the PDA that was offered and tugging it upwards -- and if it happens to be the left one where the tally marks are, then well...
Somewhere in the back of his head, even Saihara feels surprised at the level of cold-hearted logic he's showing, but... He might as well test it, if he's doing this anyway. Those marks are still painful around the edges, right? He's noticed it with a couple of others beside himself, so... how about Ouma's wrist? ]
...
[ But it's also no lie that the impulse itself was just that, no matter what else he had the clarity to do with it. His lips move for a second in the semi-darkness, like he might have had something he'd say out of anger, if only he wasn't... the scarily collected type, even now, who recalls a mere moment later it's useless. So instead, he shakes his head after a second with a gaze that almost burns into the other's face, uncharacteristically direct.
The next moment, the grip he has loosens and he draws back so he can type. ]
Were *you* happy when any of the others died?
[ Maybe there's nothing he can do at this point that will prove no ill will, and maybe he doesn't... even know it himself, in the first place. What his level of personal investment in Ouma's fate was can be debated, but... people dying isn't a matter of only how you felt about them, is it? It's more serious than that. ]
no subject
Somewhere in the back of his head, even Saihara feels surprised at the level of cold-hearted logic he's showing, but... He might as well test it, if he's doing this anyway. Those marks are still painful around the edges, right? He's noticed it with a couple of others beside himself, so... how about Ouma's wrist? ]
...
[ But it's also no lie that the impulse itself was just that, no matter what else he had the clarity to do with it. His lips move for a second in the semi-darkness, like he might have had something he'd say out of anger, if only he wasn't... the scarily collected type, even now, who recalls a mere moment later it's useless. So instead, he shakes his head after a second with a gaze that almost burns into the other's face, uncharacteristically direct.
The next moment, the grip he has loosens and he draws back so he can type. ]
Were *you* happy when any of the others died?
[ Maybe there's nothing he can do at this point that will prove no ill will, and maybe he doesn't... even know it himself, in the first place. What his level of personal investment in Ouma's fate was can be debated, but... people dying isn't a matter of only how you felt about them, is it? It's more serious than that. ]