[ Clive catches his verbal misstep after it's made, but he refrains from another apology; he figures it must be more annoying to have to field the constant tip-toeing. He'd only meant it as a joke about how dealing with him might entitle Young-One to a stiff drink, but the joke landed like an anvil on a toe, so he won't press it.
Instead, he motions to a bench that Young-One can sit on, and flicks his gaze towards the corner of the shed they're hiding out in. It's not a big space, by any means－ more like a haphazard gathering of stone and wood arranged into the semblance of a structure－ but there are a few pieces of tarp and cloth in a pile that Clive can spot, and he gravitates towards it so that he can offer the least dirty blanket-looking fabric to Young-One. ]
It doesn't sit well with me to have made you come all this way just to see that I wasn't dead.
[Regardless, Young-One is more confused about the nature of the joke, given his general reluctance to socialize on the regular. Any anvil-to-toe nature is more like a breeze whooshing over the top of his head.
[He does, however, slightly wrinkle his nose at the dirty tarp. Even under the cover of petricor, the smell on it isn't pleasant. He waves it off. He'd rather smell like rain water and be cold, thanks.]
...More like make sure you didn't die trying to do something most would consider foolish.
I didn't do it for thanks or to create a debt for you to repay, so you don't need to think on it anymore. Let your elders fuss over you sometimes.
[It's what they're supposed to do, as far as he's concerned. Fuss over them, make sure they grow up well and right, and carve their own paths forward.]
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tfln; dontknowhow
[ Clive catches his verbal misstep after it's made, but he refrains from another apology; he figures it must be more annoying to have to field the constant tip-toeing. He'd only meant it as a joke about how dealing with him might entitle Young-One to a stiff drink, but the joke landed like an anvil on a toe, so he won't press it.
Instead, he motions to a bench that Young-One can sit on, and flicks his gaze towards the corner of the shed they're hiding out in. It's not a big space, by any means－ more like a haphazard gathering of stone and wood arranged into the semblance of a structure－ but there are a few pieces of tarp and cloth in a pile that Clive can spot, and he gravitates towards it so that he can offer the least dirty blanket-looking fabric to Young-One. ]
It doesn't sit well with me to have made you come all this way just to see that I wasn't dead.
[ A sigh. ] I'll make this up to you.
Thanks for moving it! :D
[He does, however, slightly wrinkle his nose at the dirty tarp. Even under the cover of petricor, the smell on it isn't pleasant. He waves it off. He'd rather smell like rain water and be cold, thanks.]
...More like make sure you didn't die trying to do something most would consider foolish.
I didn't do it for thanks or to create a debt for you to repay, so you don't need to think on it anymore. Let your elders fuss over you sometimes.
[It's what they're supposed to do, as far as he's concerned. Fuss over them, make sure they grow up well and right, and carve their own paths forward.]