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He growls quietly at the word enforcer, the implied threat of it. Crichton says keep people out of trouble and safe and Yellow hears control them. Which makes his stomach and chest feel fluttery with discomfort.

"So humans need it. What does that have to do with me."

And Crichton has just moved him from 'baby' category in his mind to 'rebellious teenager.' They grow up so fast.

"Not just humans live here. Hell, the one in charge of the Enforcers isn't even human. It's not about that. The point is I'm going to feel bad if you get hurt when I could have prevented it."

"...Why?" Said with the intonation of 'what the fuck.'

"I just told you. It's my job. That, and I don't like people getting hurt. Do you like people getting hurt?"

He shrugs slowly. "I don't know. If they don't matter to me, why would I care?"

Crichton goes very still and quiet as he locks eyes on Yellow. His voice is low but somehow more serious because of it. "Let's get one thing straight right now. People's lives matter. Period. You don't have to like them, or personally care about them for that to be true. If you don't know how to care yet, then you better fake it until you do."

Well, he thought it was a fair question. The way Crichton replies draws a long, low growl out him, defensive and aggressive at once. It pricks at the places Arthur tore open, the places that have been healing micron by micron with each answered question and kindness from people on the island.

"Fuck you," he snarls. "Did you care about me before you thought I could help you?"

"You're damn right I did," Crichton spits back. "Caring about someone's safety and liking them are two different things. I didn't like you, but I didn't want to see anything bad happen to you, either. I still don't. That's the whole reason why I don't want you going off alone to the lake to get yourself killed or worse."

He growls again. "I don't believe you."

Yellow gets up and lets his plate drop to the floor with its remains of mustardy hot dog.

"People-- Humans say a lot of things and then do the opposite. All the time. You can say you care all you want and make it a lie--why are you angry at me for being honest?"

"You had it right the first time. People are complicated. Sometimes we don't even know how we really feel about something. Right now, I'm mad because you're calling me a liar. I'm not lying. I'm also a little pissed at you for getting mustard stains on the carpet. That's rude."

The very mature entity before him meets Crichton's eyes, plants his heel on the remains of hot dog, and grinds down.

"You were angry when I asked why I should care."

Crichton's face pinches in anger as the hot dog is ground into his (let's be real) already dirty carpet. A soft chirping sound heralds the entrance of Crichton's... strange Larva Son, Runt, who happens to really love hot dogs. But Crichton quickly tells him off with a, "Runt, no. Back to your room, please." And the beast does as its told with unhappy mutterings.

In the interim, Crichton has had time to calm down and take a step back from his frustration. He hates to admit it, but Yellow is right. Partially, anyway. The guy may look fully grown but he's younger than even Runt is. He needs to be handled as such.

"I'm sorry. I'm... frustrated with you. Which comes out looking the same. Caring about people is so natural to me I can't... I can't understand how you just wouldn't. That feels as foreign to me as humans must feel to you."

Edited 2024-11-21 15:58 (UTC)

Sorry he's distracted now, watching Runt leave. And Mr I-Don't-Care-Why-Should-I says, "Why didn't you make them a hot dog too?"

Crichton is so thoroughly derailed by the question it takes several blinks and clearing his throat before he can say anything.

...

"Runt is on a feeding schedule already."

Crichton is well familiar with Yellow's Doubt face by now, but at least the entity doesn't press.

There are more important things to handle at the moment.

"Where I was before Arthur--" The cocky outrage slips for a second before he finds his footing again and pretends not to be at all bothered by what he's saying, the memory of the place. "Trust is a fool's errand, reliance is a death wish, and caring--"

He laughs, an alarmingly evil sound coming from the baby face. "Caring is a ludicrous idea."

His upper lip peels back a little into a snarl that's more of a sneer. "That it's a luxury you're used to doesn't make it less of a luxury."

He has a feeling he's going to see that face a lot. Oh, joy.

But, for all the frustration and annoyance, he still can't deny that his heartstrings feel a tug every time Yellow lets that control slip, and lets his true vulnerable self poke through. It really is like talking to a willful teenager. One with the kind of evil laugh that can raise all the short hairs on the back of his neck. OH, JOY

"If it is a luxury, it's not one I'm sorry to have. You could have it too. You aren't back in that place anymore. You're here. You can change. You can be more."

He doesn't meet Crichton's eyes, glaring at the man's shoulder instead of at his face. "I would rather not indulge in niceties I might not be able to keep."

Vocab: 10/10
Socialization: -11000/10 dnr

"Yellow..." the softness in his tone beseeches the entity to meet his eyes. "I understand that, but you don't know what you're missing by not letting yourself grow. It's not just about what you do for others. It's what they might do for you, too. There's so much left to experience. Just... consider it?"

This time his Little Growl (tm) is half-hearted at best.

"Fine. Fine. I'll consider it. Consider it."

Yellow, to himself: No I won't.

Narrator: He was wrong.

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I don't know why all my tags are like this lately djdg