[Kimblee doesn't flinch from that sudden fit of rage; his expression darkens decidedly, and he draws his hands together in front of his body - it's an instinctive motion, one designed to make it easier for him to get his gloves off quickly. His arrays haven't been functional in all the time that he's been here, but his alchemy will probably always be his default thought when it comes to protecting himself.
However, Ralph seems to settle eventually, and Kimblee shifts the motion easily to clasp his hands casually in front of his body, entwining his fingers loosely around one another and tipping his head a bit, the usual gentle smile crossing his features again.
...it's a bit of an odd expression, kind of simplistic; it tends to happen because he doesn't know what else to do with his face. Just left of normal if you're looking carefully, but really, it's close enough for most.]
I'm glad to hear that, and I'm doubly glad that you allowed me to meet with you in person; this isn't something that can be said over the communication devices, but you aren't alone.
[He glances quickly around, ensuring there's no one close enough to overhear; when he's reasonably convinced, he continues on.]
Not all of us in this place are villains; there are some who are here as the result of an accident, or because that's the role that has been chosen for us in the past. I was seen as the villain of my own story, hated and reviled for being different from most. They called me insane, said that I was engaging in heresy, when honestly, I was just doing what I was told and what I was made to do.
The point of the game we're in, I believe, is to defeat the villains. They're holding the machine that will allow us to escape. If we find the machine and use it, we win. We can leave, and return to our own worlds; we'll get the heroic recognition that we desire and deserve. Would you be willing to assist me with something like that?
no subject
However, Ralph seems to settle eventually, and Kimblee shifts the motion easily to clasp his hands casually in front of his body, entwining his fingers loosely around one another and tipping his head a bit, the usual gentle smile crossing his features again.
...it's a bit of an odd expression, kind of simplistic; it tends to happen because he doesn't know what else to do with his face. Just left of normal if you're looking carefully, but really, it's close enough for most.]
I'm glad to hear that, and I'm doubly glad that you allowed me to meet with you in person; this isn't something that can be said over the communication devices, but you aren't alone.
[He glances quickly around, ensuring there's no one close enough to overhear; when he's reasonably convinced, he continues on.]
Not all of us in this place are villains; there are some who are here as the result of an accident, or because that's the role that has been chosen for us in the past. I was seen as the villain of my own story, hated and reviled for being different from most. They called me insane, said that I was engaging in heresy, when honestly, I was just doing what I was told and what I was made to do.
The point of the game we're in, I believe, is to defeat the villains. They're holding the machine that will allow us to escape. If we find the machine and use it, we win. We can leave, and return to our own worlds; we'll get the heroic recognition that we desire and deserve. Would you be willing to assist me with something like that?