[Kurapika does pose an intimidating figure, sliding out of the shadows. But the volume control does help to ease the considerable tension in the boy's frame, tentatively looking over his shoulder with those frightened eyes, before flicking towards the still-closed door.
You feel dread. Dread at being spotted. Fear, childlike and raw, of death. Confusion, at the sight of the locked door. And yet, curiosity, as though gazing at something unknown. Something not allowed.]
I'm... I-I'm just sick. I'm sick...
[Though the boy is frail and filthy, he does not look ill in the slightest. It's a fearful response, a taught response.]
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You feel dread. Dread at being spotted. Fear, childlike and raw, of death. Confusion, at the sight of the locked door. And yet, curiosity, as though gazing at something unknown. Something not allowed.]
I'm... I-I'm just sick. I'm sick...
[Though the boy is frail and filthy, he does not look ill in the slightest. It's a fearful response, a taught response.]