[Boy is he stubborn, and truly asking to make enemies...
If he had wanted to speak to the defense force, he would have sought them out.
It's subtle, but also very noticeable. The room around them begins to shake, as if by an Earthquake. Conrad's bed moves with it, though not enough to hurt him. An object flies off the bedside table and smashes into the wall. His dark hair whips upward, curling around his face while his eyes become a burning, red hue. He wants to crush something in his hands. Squeeze the life out of it until it becomes motionless and limp. He wants to damage something or someone beyond compare. It would be simple to make him talk. So very easy to inject him with the desire to tell him or have him begging at his feet to be healed. He's still leaning forward, the look in his eyes dangerous and overpowering.
But then it all stops. Even the menacing expression. Instead, it's replaced by something else. Something very unlike him.Was it loneliness? Sadness? Or maybe just exhaustion? It's not really clear. He stands without another word, turning away from him to leave.]