This Federico may have a somewhat better grasp on expressions (one had to be, as a catastrophe messenger. He'd ask every time if Arturia thought the civilians would heed their warnings, and why she thought that. What expressions denoted what intents, how to ascertain genuine intent vs. lies...) but the dizziness and blurry vision severely undercut that. Still, he sees the flash of teeth when the other sarkaz accepts his thanks. A grimace? A smirk? He almost prefers the former; enjoyment could mean pleasure in having another in his debt. He really does not have enough data to determine what it means.
And then there's that...name again. He blinks. "I am aware of my current situation. And the power you have over me at this current point in time. This can...suffice..." And with some mustered energy, he attempts to sit up. Or just...crane his neck just so he can bite at the ropes around his arms-
The way that pulls against his wings, and something in his leg, and something inside- his ribs? It flares with pain. His vision whites out for a moment. Bad move. Very bad move. Stars. What's happening? All he can do is breathe through it, teeth clamped together, blood seeping from the ragged corners of his mouth but at least he can close his mouth now. Breathe.
Breathe.
"Y-You keep...calling mme...Angel. I'm not...what do you mean?" he rasps, wanting nothing more than to curl up on himself far away from here. But he has to talk, to do something before this person finally decides to take advantage of the situation. "Messenger. Call me...I am...Messenger." It only makes sense to be called by what you are, what you strive for day to day.
Maybe his tail can dislodge some of the bindings? It flicks, but lacks coordination, and just ends up lashing over his bruised ankle. Now that the adrenaline has faded, he can feel everything keenly, the pain threatening to pull him down and away from it all. He can't allow that. He needs to use that as a tool here-
"What?"
The other had asked his status. No. If he was alright. There's a difference. Stone-blue eyes widen, staring at the other sarkaz for a moment in clear surprise. How should he reply to that? Why is he asking? What does it matter here? What are his motives?? He swallows, eyeing the indicated dagger, trying to gather his thoughts that seem to balk at the reminder of a weapon so close, so easy to end his life on the spot.
But why wait this long to do so...? Why ask about his wellness? Why?
"Status...uncertain. Numerous injuries." Hurts. He is not alright. But that amount spoken...is true.
'If it were up to me, I'd like to-'
Federico sucks in a breath. He would also like that. Very much. And this man had already removed the gag, the muzzle. The why does not matter in the face of the very real relief that brought. And yet still his heart hammers, and his thoughts are getting more sluggish. It's...difficult.
"What gain does freeing me bring for you...?" he finally asks, tail lashing. He attempts to flare his wings to restore some level of dignity, then chokes down a pained cry when it pulls at the damn bindings. Foolish. He should....he should know better. He forces his breathing to slow, hissing through clamped, sharp, bloodstained teeth. "Who are you? Is there something you desire from me?" That has to be it, right?
It's been. 20 YEARS- 12 weeks. Taps mic I accidentally dropped. this still on? *screeeech*
And then there's that...name again. He blinks. "I am aware of my current situation. And the power you have over me at this current point in time. This can...suffice..." And with some mustered energy, he attempts to sit up. Or just...crane his neck just so he can bite at the ropes around his arms-
The way that pulls against his wings, and something in his leg, and something inside- his ribs? It flares with pain. His vision whites out for a moment. Bad move. Very bad move. Stars. What's happening? All he can do is breathe through it, teeth clamped together, blood seeping from the ragged corners of his mouth but at least he can close his mouth now. Breathe.
Breathe.
"Y-You keep...calling mme...Angel. I'm not...what do you mean?" he rasps, wanting nothing more than to curl up on himself far away from here. But he has to talk, to do something before this person finally decides to take advantage of the situation. "Messenger. Call me...I am...Messenger." It only makes sense to be called by what you are, what you strive for day to day.
Maybe his tail can dislodge some of the bindings? It flicks, but lacks coordination, and just ends up lashing over his bruised ankle. Now that the adrenaline has faded, he can feel everything keenly, the pain threatening to pull him down and away from it all. He can't allow that. He needs to use that as a tool here-
"What?"
The other had asked his status. No. If he was alright. There's a difference. Stone-blue eyes widen, staring at the other sarkaz for a moment in clear surprise. How should he reply to that? Why is he asking? What does it matter here? What are his motives?? He swallows, eyeing the indicated dagger, trying to gather his thoughts that seem to balk at the reminder of a weapon so close, so easy to end his life on the spot.
But why wait this long to do so...? Why ask about his wellness? Why?
"Status...uncertain. Numerous injuries." Hurts. He is not alright. But that amount spoken...is true.
'If it were up to me, I'd like to-'
Federico sucks in a breath. He would also like that. Very much. And this man had already removed the gag, the muzzle. The why does not matter in the face of the very real relief that brought. And yet still his heart hammers, and his thoughts are getting more sluggish. It's...difficult.
"What gain does freeing me bring for you...?" he finally asks, tail lashing. He attempts to flare his wings to restore some level of dignity, then chokes down a pained cry when it pulls at the damn bindings. Foolish. He should....he should know better. He forces his breathing to slow, hissing through clamped, sharp, bloodstained teeth. "Who are you? Is there something you desire from me?" That has to be it, right?
Right?