Shaun was at a loss. Were they just going to ignore this, as if it had never happened? There was no way Desmond was not unaware of the salves and bandages they'd put on his body. And he had been awake for the last of their discussion. Desmond was thick at times, but he was not dumb.
"Really?" He sputtered, and all three heads turned to look at him. Lucy's eyes were particularly hard, as if telling him to shut up. As if! "Are we really just going to ignore all of this happened!?"
"Shaun," Lucy's tone held a warning.
"It's fine," Desmond interrupted them, and his eyes were half-lidded, far too calm. Within their depths, Shaun would've sworn he saw a swirl of gold. "You can strap me to the Animus, if it makes you feel safer, Shaun."
Shaun sputtered a "that's not--!"
"We have to find the Apple before the Templars do," Desmond said, and his tone was heavy with finality. "None of us can afford any setbacks." He grinned, and it was so forced it was breaking Shaun's heart. "We're very close, I can feel it. I won't break before we get it."
"Have you all lost your minds!" Shaun's voice was so loud, the echoes reverberated back to him tenfold. "Can't you see what this is doing to him! At this rate, you will either die or go bloody berserk, you bleeding idiot!"
"I won't break before we get it," Desmond assured them again, and closed his eyes, leaning back against the Animus. "Rebecca, send me back inside."
"Desmond!" Shaun yelled, glasses askew. "Did you not hear what I said?"
"He's right," Lucy said, and her voice was so steely, Shaun knew she was probably a storm of emotions inside. But it did not deter him from feeling a horrendous slick of hate building up inside of him. "This is bigger than all of us. We cannot allow the Templars to get the location of the Apple before us. Rebecca?"
Rebecca looked lost, but she came forward anyway, needle shaking in her hand.
Shaun's lips flapped open and close, soundlessly. Grief, anger, frustration -- and, finally, resignation -- he threw his hands in the air, turned around and sat down on his seat, frame shuddering. "Do whatever you want," he hissed. What was left? Better to become utterly unattached, than care too much and break from the strain. He could do nothing but look at history, and see it repeat. Wasn't that the job of a Historian?
Rebecca's hands were shaking so much, she couldn't get the vein she needed. Desmond's arm was already ridden with holes from all the other times they'd pulled him under - a junkie's arm. Three pokes in, and she accidentally collapsed the vein, a purple bruise sure to form. "I'm so sorry," she said, shakily. "Oh god, Desmond, I'm so sorry."
All Subject 17 did was smile benignly, and offer up his other arm.
Fill [6/?]
"Really?" He sputtered, and all three heads turned to look at him. Lucy's eyes were particularly hard, as if telling him to shut up. As if! "Are we really just going to ignore all of this happened!?"
"Shaun," Lucy's tone held a warning.
"It's fine," Desmond interrupted them, and his eyes were half-lidded, far too calm. Within their depths, Shaun would've sworn he saw a swirl of gold. "You can strap me to the Animus, if it makes you feel safer, Shaun."
Shaun sputtered a "that's not--!"
"We have to find the Apple before the Templars do," Desmond said, and his tone was heavy with finality. "None of us can afford any setbacks." He grinned, and it was so forced it was breaking Shaun's heart. "We're very close, I can feel it. I won't break before we get it."
"Have you all lost your minds!" Shaun's voice was so loud, the echoes reverberated back to him tenfold. "Can't you see what this is doing to him! At this rate, you will either die or go bloody berserk, you bleeding idiot!"
"I won't break before we get it," Desmond assured them again, and closed his eyes, leaning back against the Animus. "Rebecca, send me back inside."
"Desmond!" Shaun yelled, glasses askew. "Did you not hear what I said?"
"He's right," Lucy said, and her voice was so steely, Shaun knew she was probably a storm of emotions inside. But it did not deter him from feeling a horrendous slick of hate building up inside of him. "This is bigger than all of us. We cannot allow the Templars to get the location of the Apple before us. Rebecca?"
Rebecca looked lost, but she came forward anyway, needle shaking in her hand.
Shaun's lips flapped open and close, soundlessly. Grief, anger, frustration -- and, finally, resignation -- he threw his hands in the air, turned around and sat down on his seat, frame shuddering. "Do whatever you want," he hissed. What was left? Better to become utterly unattached, than care too much and break from the strain. He could do nothing but look at history, and see it repeat. Wasn't that the job of a Historian?
Rebecca's hands were shaking so much, she couldn't get the vein she needed. Desmond's arm was already ridden with holes from all the other times they'd pulled him under - a junkie's arm. Three pokes in, and she accidentally collapsed the vein, a purple bruise sure to form. "I'm so sorry," she said, shakily. "Oh god, Desmond, I'm so sorry."
All Subject 17 did was smile benignly, and offer up his other arm.