MEMENTO VIVERE | RETURN?

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IT'S THE THOUGHT THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE DONE IT [align=right]BUT YOU CAN'T KNOW WHY    —    tags 

The boy's would prick at the mention of death, and returning from it. He blinks and his mouth opens, as if he is about to say something, ask something, but it seems he thinks better of it, and closes it once more, listening to the rest of the female's words. He would look over his own fur - the skeletal markings, albeit cartoonish, unrealistic, likely hold a similar reminder. But, it was information only his father knows for now, as far as he is aware. It is not a topic he wishes to speak out over publicly. Death was not funny. It hurt. And it was slow. And it felt like the worst kind of failure. But, he no longer had to feel it. This was both of their second chances. And he didn't want to think about it anymore. Not unless he was alone, with his dad. There were too many others here now to think of it, and they all had different things to say over the situation. He did not know Arrow. It was not his turn to speak.

His orange eyes turn downcast as now they discuss Leroy. Another individual he did not know. He'd seen him once before his demise, and then never again, only aware that so many others had cared for the canine, including his father. It was not something he should or even really could comment about. So, he would instead politely listen, keeping his gaze away from others. That is, until an individual he's not met - but most certainly did know of - approaches. And he was...angry. The former weapon carefully watches their leader, his ears twisting back as he hears the words spill out of the male's mouth. He shuffles closer to his father silently, trying to press up against him, his stance lowering as if to hide himself. The male was angry for similar reasons the boy felt...but, he had not been angry at anyone but himself. He'd been given the second chance. Not his brother, who deserved it. But, no one here knew his brother. No one knew to be angry with him.

But, still, it did not seem to be the same. These events...as far as he knew, were not connected in any manner. Just that they died, and one returned from it. Arrow was not to blame. She'd not even known.

"B-Being angry at her...wo-won't make him come b-back." He would shakily state, voice still quiet, but hopefully loud enough for the male to hear. Or hopefully not. He is not so sure. Maybe it still wasn't his place to speak. His head turns away, staring at the ground, as if to communicate he did not mean to challenge him. "My...My name's Roy, miss Arrow." Because he hadn't gotten to say it earlier. But, his gaze does not lift to meet her own. It remains locked towards the ground.