[He'd told Apollo he'd be fine, because Apollo Justice was always fine. But this...seeing the bandages wrapped around his arms and torso, seeing him broken down further than he'd already thought. No...No, Apollo Justice was not fine, and there's a deep feeling of something Klavier rarely ever expressed bubbling up inside him. Discontent? No, it was far beyond that.
This was anger.
He stands up, walking over to Apollo and hovering his hands over his shoulders. As if touching him would hurt in some way.] I'd heard about that...I didn't think it was y--[You. All he'd heard was a bombing in the courtroom. And his blood runs cold at the thought of Apollo possibly dying from it.
And he wouldn't have known until he read the paper the next morning.]
Herr Justice. Apollo--[His teeth bites down on that lip, blue eyes flashing a rare emotion in him--anger, frustration, pooling up as he turns away and muttering under his breath. Most of it are curses to himself, about how he should have looked into that more, about how Apollo could have been severely injured or even worse.
But then it slowly evolves into something, a garbled mix of English and German before fully becoming the latter, hands raising to his hair and threading through it, continuing a conversation with only himself. Fear and sadness get caught in his throat, trying his bet to keep ahold of himself as fingers drag down his face.
no subject
This was anger.
He stands up, walking over to Apollo and hovering his hands over his shoulders. As if touching him would hurt in some way.] I'd heard about that...I didn't think it was y--[You. All he'd heard was a bombing in the courtroom. And his blood runs cold at the thought of Apollo possibly dying from it.
And he wouldn't have known until he read the paper the next morning.]
Herr Justice. Apollo--[His teeth bites down on that lip, blue eyes flashing a rare emotion in him--anger, frustration, pooling up as he turns away and muttering under his breath. Most of it are curses to himself, about how he should have looked into that more, about how Apollo could have been severely injured or even worse.
But then it slowly evolves into something, a garbled mix of English and German before fully becoming the latter, hands raising to his hair and threading through it, continuing a conversation with only himself. Fear and sadness get caught in his throat, trying his bet to keep ahold of himself as fingers drag down his face.
Apollo almost died.
Twice.
And he just told the man he was fine.]