[action]
[ for a person who it is difficult to garner expressions from, ribbons is a bit revealing, isn't he? although, alois is sure—knows—that it must be only over things he wants to be revealing about.
somehow, those words manage to stupefy him. the boy sits back on his legs, his boots, and folds his hands onto his lap. he can't believe it, really. there's no one as terrible or awful as himself. no one.
he could say, 'I don't believe that,' which would partially be true, but life has conditioned him to know otherwise. everyone in that prison probably deserves to be there. it fleetingly crosses his mind to ask what ribbons had done that's so horrible he would wind up here, but— ]
No one deserves it more than me, [ sudden, vague confession? yes. assuming too much so suddenly? probably so. but, he honestly doesn't believe anyone elses awfulness compares. that's the way self-loathing works. ]
[ he presses and wipes the back of his hands and the cuffs of his sleeves against his eyes, now. ] I'm really disgusting. I definitely deserve to be here. Not you. [ because ribbons, as far as he's concerned, has been very kind. he could have left him on his own, but he brought him to the better side of the prison, didn't he? to sit under the soothing tree. (not that it's doing much help, for the moment.) ] And, it really is the worst sort of punishment. "You can do as you please, but you can't have Claude."
It's really, really painful not to have Claude. [ ah, who is it that's being a bit revealing now? ]