He’s just going to stand there and silently judge the blonde figure who has tripped and fallen face-first onto the ground. Naturally, one would think he’d ask if the stranger was alright, but the sight was too amusing to interrupt.
[ I should get up ]
It is the first thought that runs through the blonde’s head. But he lays there … there’s something strange about laying there that makes him not want to move. Eyes lift, bracing weight upon his arms with a heave forward. Dirt is covering his top and lower half, clinging to fabric. “O-oh no …” he begins trying to brush it off, eyebrows scrunching together.
Tenebrae was going to kill him …
He doesn’t even notice the person bemusedly watching him, used to far worse from others.
