"You want me to go back upstairs?" he fired back testily, his voice a disenfranchised, indignant grumble beneath her ringing laughter.
"I'm sure the others would appreciate the help in finishing the manticore off."Nonetheless, Luke carried on, loading his pair and turning about-face towards the storage room for more, proceeding at what was, in scientific terms, known as a "dissatisfied half-trot, half-jog". She would get tired of it in a week with luck, sure, but it still was going to be a whole week of hearing it from her and whomever else decided to join in.
At least Sangue had the right idea now. If nothing else, that made it easier.
"...I do care, yeah." he responded after a moment's contemplation of (and simmering down thanks to) the Swordswoman's words.
"I'm glad you think I'm a nice guy, even though I'm not sure of it myself, but I do care about the people around me."How they were feeling.
What they were doing.
If they needed help.
If they made
him decide they needed help.
"I care a lot. That's why I'm here."If I can stand amongst them."I wanna help people. I hate seeing people get hurt, and I can't stand people who just ignore it." He reached up, grunting as he pulled down the first of his next pair of barrels.
"If I see somebody in front of me who's having a hard time, I wanna help them. I lose it if I don't. Maybe I'm following the impulse of the moment, but even if that's the case, there's no way I'm doing it carelessly. It's precisely because I care—"Down came the second.
"—that I ever wanted to help in the first place."Pushing the first down with his foot, he caught Sangue's eye.
"What about you?"