Too much of his attention was stuck on the gruesome looking hatch-work of stitches on the shadow-tamer's torso. It was still a new wound and though Carson wasn't exactly a doctor, [i]his father was-[/i], he knew that wounds like that got infected easily and it worried him briefly. He was never a fan of makeshift doctoring to serious wounds and yet he did well in not saying anything, he assumed the man knew what he was doing. He turned his attention away from it but it left a note in the back of his mind somewhere. He hoped the man didn't get an infection.

He didn't want to speak out as the man was talking, unable to process a clear enough thought to offer in return of his words, unable to offer him anything that would be of use to him. The redhead was feeling pretty useless as far as good replies were concerned and he didn't feel like making a blubbering idiot of himself just yet. He'd almost let himself be killed by some maniac because he'd decided he couldn't save himself, he felt like a huge baby at the moment and it was embarrassing him horribly. He'd never been good with trauma of any sort, he got too anxious and he was an escapist but he couldn't escape this and that was bothering him more than anything. There was no escaping left, there was no more to run, he felt cornered.

He'd been trying to escape his parents house in hopes of pretending that those problems didn't exist, he'd tried to escape his power in general and now he was here. He was here and for the first time since he'd realized there was something different about him, he wasn't so sure he could get away from it anymore and he found himself growing weary. There were no more battles today but the battles were far from over by the way the man spoke. He barely flinched when his phone was sliced and he ran his hand up through his hair worriedly, his pale blue eyes flashing in the lowlight. He didn't think his mother would be texting soon anyhow, she was probably in her usual ritual of TV and avoiding his father's endless spew of dribbling nonsense about how he was under appreciated.

It was routine, he expected it by now, he didn't want to think about anything else happening. He wanted them to be going about their usual daily problems of one-sided arguing and Tru TV endlessly chattering about some serial killer while his mother silently watched. He may have inherited his father's fiery hair and freckled nose and quick temper but he'd also inherited his mother's tendency to bunker down from her problems instead of facing them. He was really wanting to do that now but the man seemed to have other plans and it seemed more sane than Carson could fight. 

[i]He definitely didn't want to have another showdown with the mysterious Phi and his not-so-mysterious gun.[/i]

The man standing before him however was some otherworldly force, a creature of shade and ink, someone who probably knew much better than him. This man was someone that he decided he could trust, if warily, he felt wary about everything right now though. He knew much better than to question someone like this and he drew in a breath. "[color=00a651]I don't suppose there's much to return to, huh?[/color]" he asked somberly before nodding very slowly, his fingers running through his hair a few more times as if to smooth what was already flattened against his head. It was a nervous habit and jittery shudders were running through him as if to get out the last of his anxious tension.

"[color=00a651]Contrary to popular belief I don't want to go home and get wiped out. Surviving death once is fine by me.[/color]" a weak smile, half-hearted and crooked. "[color=00a651]You've got me. I don't know what good I'll be and I'll probably end up crying by the end of today but I'll join.[/color]"