Ned can't possibly leave him hanging; he gives Jesse a high-five without complaint or hesitation. He grins - beams, even. It's a little pathetic, he thinks, how happy a simple high-five can make him. That small, casual gesture of friendship and conviviality. But Ned's never really had people to high-five, has led a high-five-less existence since before he found out about his powers.
He then feels bad for mistrusting Jesse just a few minutes ago, for reacting so extremely to (what he now sees was) a very small, understandable outburst. How is he ever going to convince great guys like Jesse to stay friends with him if he is so sensitive all the time? People want to be around a guy who offers high-fives, not a guy who flinches away from them.
All of which is in his head when Jesse jokes about him being a damsel in distress.
"I'm starting to worry I might be," he says back, walking the fine line between joke and seriousness. He wants to laugh it off, to snark back in a falsetto, but it sticks in his throat. Maybe, if he were better rested, he could be able to manage it. But right now, he can't help thinking how there's some truth in that joking accusation.
"Alright, so maybe I don't fit some of the, uh, damsel parameters, strictly speaking, but-" at which point his voice falters, and he accidentally tips off that line, planting both feet firmly onto the serious side. No matter how light he tries to keep his voice, it's an obvious veneer, "-I'd say distressed is... is a pretty mild word for how I felt at the time."
He's still smiling, but there's something fragile behind it now as he shrugs, says, "I mean, I didn't know hoarding was all he had on the agenda." Ned looks down at a patch of rue, runs his fingers through it as he adds, "But, in case you haven't noticed by now, I'm not exactly the bravest guy in the world." As far as Ned's concerned, that's not the usual self-loathing talking, that's just a fact. Jesse's seen it, too. Not the worst of it, not the full-blown panic attacks, but he's seen how jumpy Ned is. Hell, the first time they'd met Ned had jumped out of his skin over a silly static shock.
no subject
He then feels bad for mistrusting Jesse just a few minutes ago, for reacting so extremely to (what he now sees was) a very small, understandable outburst. How is he ever going to convince great guys like Jesse to stay friends with him if he is so sensitive all the time? People want to be around a guy who offers high-fives, not a guy who flinches away from them.
All of which is in his head when Jesse jokes about him being a damsel in distress.
"I'm starting to worry I might be," he says back, walking the fine line between joke and seriousness. He wants to laugh it off, to snark back in a falsetto, but it sticks in his throat. Maybe, if he were better rested, he could be able to manage it. But right now, he can't help thinking how there's some truth in that joking accusation.
"Alright, so maybe I don't fit some of the, uh, damsel parameters, strictly speaking, but-" at which point his voice falters, and he accidentally tips off that line, planting both feet firmly onto the serious side. No matter how light he tries to keep his voice, it's an obvious veneer, "-I'd say distressed is... is a pretty mild word for how I felt at the time."
He's still smiling, but there's something fragile behind it now as he shrugs, says, "I mean, I didn't know hoarding was all he had on the agenda." Ned looks down at a patch of rue, runs his fingers through it as he adds, "But, in case you haven't noticed by now, I'm not exactly the bravest guy in the world." As far as Ned's concerned, that's not the usual self-loathing talking, that's just a fact. Jesse's seen it, too. Not the worst of it, not the full-blown panic attacks, but he's seen how jumpy Ned is. Hell, the first time they'd met Ned had jumped out of his skin over a silly static shock.