[The tension, at the very least, is completely expected, so he doesn't move to let go, releasing a breath he didn't know he'd been holding when Frisk finally starts to crumble. They're upset, they're scared, and while valid, it meant that they were unpredictable. Give them time to break down, just for a few minutes, and then they could focus on what the hell they planned to do with this new predicament on their shoulders.
So for now, he lets them cling, carefully scooting the two of them as close to the nearest wall as possible, trying not to bristle too much with how uncomfortable the situation makes him. It's not the first time Frisk has cried in his presence, but to comfort another person never came very easily to Lutha in the first place. Too often he has to focus on pushing away or refocusing, neither of which he can do in good conscience with a human child in this godforsaken place. Now that he's taken a step, he's a bit lost on what else to do. What the hell would the goblin-fer do? That's... a bad question to ask, considering the first answer involves more talking than he thinks Frisk is equipped for at the moment.
So then, what would Alfonso do?
...
He almost chucks the thought, because thinking of Alfonso means not only thinking of unbearable optimism to the point of stupidity, but of having to leave that damn point of glorious stupidity behind. What would he do? He'd try to give hope.
Could he even manage that without feeling like an absolute liar?
His tongue feels thick in his throat as he swallows, his fingers tight in Frisk's hair.]
You can still say no. You still want to say sorry. That's still you. That's... good enough for right now. Alright?
no subject
So for now, he lets them cling, carefully scooting the two of them as close to the nearest wall as possible, trying not to bristle too much with how uncomfortable the situation makes him. It's not the first time Frisk has cried in his presence, but to comfort another person never came very easily to Lutha in the first place. Too often he has to focus on pushing away or refocusing, neither of which he can do in good conscience with a human child in this godforsaken place. Now that he's taken a step, he's a bit lost on what else to do. What the hell would the goblin-fer do? That's... a bad question to ask, considering the first answer involves more talking than he thinks Frisk is equipped for at the moment.
So then, what would Alfonso do?
...
He almost chucks the thought, because thinking of Alfonso means not only thinking of unbearable optimism to the point of stupidity, but of having to leave that damn point of glorious stupidity behind. What would he do? He'd try to give hope.
Could he even manage that without feeling like an absolute liar?
His tongue feels thick in his throat as he swallows, his fingers tight in Frisk's hair.]
You can still say no. You still want to say sorry. That's still you. That's... good enough for right now. Alright?