{ from here }
“Nonsense.” Charm. Enamoured. El Cid wasn’t even sure those were words that could ever be applied to him. Yes, as proud and stubborn as he was, the spanish couldn’t deny what Sisyphus just said- he did give himself into those jokes and took them all too seriously. And hated himself for that. Sometimes he hated Sisyphus too, for being right and knowing him so absurdly well. But only sometimes.
“I’ve had my good share of care taking, yes.” He replied when, with a shine, the whole Capricorn Cloth left his body and he was once again using the casual suit the Gold Saints had for an uniform. And he was lying, of course, seeing as El Cid wouldn’t eat much more than a fruit and drink some water among his trainings. “You don’t have to worry about me, you know that.” He said, while opening a bottle of wine and already pouring two of them. “I’m glad you are feeling better though. None of those.. inner struggles of yours on the past times?” He asked, staring Sisyphus in the eye while offering him the other cup of wine, this time looking more worried than anything else - and perhaps being one of the few times El Cid’d genuinelly allow himself to express something.
{ @wind-storming }
