[ the remarks that startle him the most when it comes to the kid with bright hair and brighter eyes - the culmination of a flinch, or a sharper turn of his head or a quicker blink - always orbits around simple human emotion that spills so easily out to the surface. so palpable that even he catches winds of it. he has seen clear cut relief written on faces before and this one strikes him odd; the very presence of one at all.

guess rin really didn't realize how close he was to dying. at least, that's the conclusion that cuts easily. it's the idea that the situation may rise again that spurs heine to think this talk necessary. if this place could push a spine berserk - no. all it really did was give a single little poke that set of the chain event, and it spoke more volumes about heine's own mental fractures.

rin settles in the scant bed of flowers, and heine sniffs. the smell is sweet and otherwise would have been subtle if he wasn't smelling it for the first time, if the steady wafts of a breeze didn't cyclically lift the scent up and settle at the base of his neck in a headache.

a flower flicked his way, landing on his knee and he brushes it away featherlight. a shrug, as he ducks his chin closer to the high collar of his jacket. ] You just got here quick.

[ a retort that is neither here nor there.

another exhale, slow, as he leans his elbows onto his crossed legs, and finds himself fumbling with a small blossom. considers the action, and drops it away. ] Well, guess I'll have to start from the very top. [ his hesitation is internalized, and there's steel and spine and voice. distant passivity, and he intends to keep it so. it was what it was. ] Remember I said there were two main levels to the city?