Trip to The Beach

[Dust]

Before, Dust noticed, he might have gone along with her completly void of his on opinion of where to go to have a conversation. But now, after too many relayed messages at a table or standing in shadows, he didn't let go when she tried to sit down. His strong touch was too much for her to argue with as he pulled her back onto her feet and started heading towards the water again. He would later suspect it was the Neko's blood that bothered her to getting to close, that cats hate water. But he didn't think about it as he tugged her along. His hand gentle for a giant, but still forceful enough to let her know he wasn't interested in sitting down.

"I'm not the type of person who can read people, my actions are based purely on instinct. So if I get a little too talkative, just stop me." He said, making an effort to excuse his mistakes before he made them. He wasn't a talker, nor a thinker. He never had to be. He was strategic, but he was still the worse of the group. He didn't let go of her hand, despite getting closer enough to the water that he was walking on the soft squishy sand, it felt like snow under his feet, but more solid. "I can't actually say why I'm so under dressed, because I don't really know. Before this I was on a train, and before that I was in battle." That would explain the bandaging on his arm opposite of the one she touched, the patches of gauze that were taped to him in random places, bullet wounds. "I was fighting against another squad of soliders, but I had been on my last leg. And my archenemy, if you can call her that, had me on my knees and ready to strike the final blow. When she suggest I return to her side with her and the other guy I fight regularly. I agreed and then passed out. Next thing after that, I was being aroused from sleep, and Drake was pulling me outside. And before I was pulled here to the Omniverse, he died in my arms. "

When he finished, he had a sad look on his face. While his tone had been somewhat neutral, his eyes looked very sad. Lost.. His ice cream was melting in his hand, leaving thing brown lines over his knuckles before he started to lap away at the soft outer shell. Not because he enjoyed it, not with that sad look in his eyes, but because he didn't want it to waste away.