[It's not a question Gladion is expecting to hear. It introduces into his head the possibility of feeding sooner, hell maybe even now, and...he can't say no. He's hungry. He could probably make the trip, but he wants it badly enough to shove aside all the very good reasons he set up the patch in the first place. He'll regret it later, but later isn't now.
This is what he's (barely) thinking when his head pops up, his wide eyes fix on what Rindo is carrying, and he starts to shiver visibly. His tail—
—snaps back up and coils around his own body, in one last cringe away from the inevitable. He grabs the end and clutches it tightly to his chest.]
I could—but I'm not certain, I— [Nasty, frantic guilt bubbles up. The trust he's cultivated for Rindo doesn't reach quite far enough to make leaving this to him acceptable. There is nothing noble about this type of camaraderie. Gladion's gaze yanks away from that and scrambles for anything else to focus on. The ground. The sky. Silvally's worried face.] Not—not in the yard. Not in the yard.
[That's the minimum. Saying it, saying that much.]
no subject
This is what he's (barely) thinking when his head pops up, his wide eyes fix on what Rindo is carrying, and he starts to shiver visibly. His tail—
—snaps back up and coils around his own body, in one last cringe away from the inevitable. He grabs the end and clutches it tightly to his chest.]
I could—but I'm not certain, I— [Nasty, frantic guilt bubbles up. The trust he's cultivated for Rindo doesn't reach quite far enough to make leaving this to him acceptable. There is nothing noble about this type of camaraderie. Gladion's gaze yanks away from that and scrambles for anything else to focus on. The ground. The sky. Silvally's worried face.] Not—not in the yard. Not in the yard.
[That's the minimum. Saying it, saying that much.]