[If he were a Reaper, Brook would be able to tell. Even standing right next to him, Nikolai doesn't smell of that particular sort of power. A Reaper also isn't mostly human; maybe half, in a generous estimation.
Brook isn't a particularly empathetic person. It led, in part, to his downfall, all those decades ago. But he learned something recently, thanks to his encounter with Satan's newest Reaper, thanks to the deal he struck with a dying human sinner.
He kind of likes being around people who are kind of like him. He likes having someone to talk to who understands him, even a little bit. He likes to do things that are important to them, likes aligning his purpose with their happiness more than with the orders that make existing convenient. Even if continuing like that is so, so much harder.
He likes... making friends. Maybe. It probably won't be worth it in the end. But Scarlet and Chase started something, inviting him into their lives, and even separated from them, he doesn't want to stop.
He looks unflinchingly up at Nikolai, with his faltering facade of charm and confidence, the tearing talons and darkness bleeding through at his edges. Then he shrugs.]
Then maybe you're something like me.
[No judgment, no gentleness. He offers only a matter-of-fact suggestion.]
no subject
Brook isn't a particularly empathetic person. It led, in part, to his downfall, all those decades ago. But he learned something recently, thanks to his encounter with Satan's newest Reaper, thanks to the deal he struck with a dying human sinner.
He kind of likes being around people who are kind of like him. He likes having someone to talk to who understands him, even a little bit. He likes to do things that are important to them, likes aligning his purpose with their happiness more than with the orders that make existing convenient. Even if continuing like that is so, so much harder.
He likes... making friends. Maybe. It probably won't be worth it in the end. But Scarlet and Chase started something, inviting him into their lives, and even separated from them, he doesn't want to stop.
He looks unflinchingly up at Nikolai, with his faltering facade of charm and confidence, the tearing talons and darkness bleeding through at his edges. Then he shrugs.]
Then maybe you're something like me.
[No judgment, no gentleness. He offers only a matter-of-fact suggestion.]
I stopped being human a hundred years ago.