[ Fighting, violence, killing — it's what he does best. All the choices outside of the simple equation of 'handle the bad person causing a problem' are where he can't exactly trust his own instincts. Never could. So he's built some sense of morality from the ground up, from the direction that good people around him provide, like welding scrap metal parts that don't exactly fit together but seem to manage okay.
Amos Burton doesn't naturally care about the welfare of others, unless those others are people he happens to like, happens to consider part of his tribe, or simply just — in need of protecting. He knows this well and intimately about himself, he knows it's different than most, and he knows that's not where he wants to stay, where he wants to be. He looks to others for guidance, to supplement the conscience he doesn't really have.
What happens to them from here, who knows. He figures they'll find this person or they won't, and they'll part ways. But while he exists with her in this moment and the next, the logic is easy to follow: she seems willing to have his back, and he'll have hers in turn.
Simple as that.
He keeps moving with her as she asks the question, and he doesn't have the air of arrogance, not a trace of it. There's no scoffing, no 'you really need to ask?' or any other shade of posturing. He knows what he can do, knows he can handle himself without question, but he doesn't have an ego about it, doesn't have anything to flaunt. So his response is decisive, straight to the point. ]
Shit goes down, there won't be a problem.
[ There isn't a sense of tension about him; what he's feeling right now is anticipation. There may even be a thrill at the thought of taking down someone who's decided to cause trouble. His face — what can be seen — is mostly impassive, but curious as he assesses the path up ahead. There's the sound of scuffling, but it's hard to make out much, and he lowers his voice. ]
I'll go ahead.
[ This feels like the logical thing, not knowing how many there are, what direction they could come from, and she's got a weapon to use. He can almost carve a path of sorts. But he's not tied to the idea if she has a better suggestion. ]
no subject
Amos Burton doesn't naturally care about the welfare of others, unless those others are people he happens to like, happens to consider part of his tribe, or simply just — in need of protecting. He knows this well and intimately about himself, he knows it's different than most, and he knows that's not where he wants to stay, where he wants to be. He looks to others for guidance, to supplement the conscience he doesn't really have.
What happens to them from here, who knows. He figures they'll find this person or they won't, and they'll part ways. But while he exists with her in this moment and the next, the logic is easy to follow: she seems willing to have his back, and he'll have hers in turn.
Simple as that.
He keeps moving with her as she asks the question, and he doesn't have the air of arrogance, not a trace of it. There's no scoffing, no 'you really need to ask?' or any other shade of posturing. He knows what he can do, knows he can handle himself without question, but he doesn't have an ego about it, doesn't have anything to flaunt. So his response is decisive, straight to the point. ]
Shit goes down, there won't be a problem.
[ There isn't a sense of tension about him; what he's feeling right now is anticipation. There may even be a thrill at the thought of taking down someone who's decided to cause trouble. His face — what can be seen — is mostly impassive, but curious as he assesses the path up ahead. There's the sound of scuffling, but it's hard to make out much, and he lowers his voice. ]
I'll go ahead.
[ This feels like the logical thing, not knowing how many there are, what direction they could come from, and she's got a weapon to use. He can almost carve a path of sorts. But he's not tied to the idea if she has a better suggestion. ]