[What Ishimaru likely won't see is the fact that this exchange has bothered her — moreso than some of the other altercations she's gotten into since her arrival here — and as yet she can't put her finger on why. Maybe it's the disparity in their levels of experience that's making her prickly; useful though it might be in some instances, it still doesn't sit well with her when other people know something she doesn't, or when they have a better handle on the situation than she does, or they prove to be more competent than she was anticipating.
And it bothers her because some of his digs had actually landed. Togami-kun's backseat driving had been obnoxious but tolerable because she'd been full aware that he didn't know any better than she did at the time. If Ishimaru's attempts at authority had just been that sort of posturing, it would've been fine as well.
But he had the advantage, and it bothers her. Not knowing things bothers her. Being told (as she interprets it) not to find them out seems as intolerable as it is insulting.
And what surprises her most about it all is that his remark of "us" had hit her harder than expected, too. She's never begrudged her classmates their friendships; most of the time, she's been content to refrain from that sort of attachment. She likes being alone. It's what she knows.
Something about the way this conversation went — accepting Celes, defending Mondo, singling out her — has just made her realize that it's only fine to be alone when that's her own choice. When that division is coming from someone else...
...
Evidently she cares more about her classmates and their opinions than perhaps she'd let even herself realize.
But she'll have time to pick that apart later. For now, her expression stays blank, and she decides not to dignify what he's said with an answer.
Instead, she withdraws from the dog herself, offering him one last pat before activating the Pokeball's retrieval mechanism and watching as his tufts of fur and lolling tongue disappear in a flash of red light. When it's done, she pockets the ball and leaves, picking a direction that will take her away from the Pokemon Center so they don't have to trouble with the potential awkwardness of saying goodbye and then failing to actually part ways.
no subject
[What Ishimaru likely won't see is the fact that this exchange has bothered her — moreso than some of the other altercations she's gotten into since her arrival here — and as yet she can't put her finger on why. Maybe it's the disparity in their levels of experience that's making her prickly; useful though it might be in some instances, it still doesn't sit well with her when other people know something she doesn't, or when they have a better handle on the situation than she does, or they prove to be more competent than she was anticipating.
And it bothers her because some of his digs had actually landed. Togami-kun's backseat driving had been obnoxious but tolerable because she'd been full aware that he didn't know any better than she did at the time. If Ishimaru's attempts at authority had just been that sort of posturing, it would've been fine as well.
But he had the advantage, and it bothers her. Not knowing things bothers her. Being told (as she interprets it) not to find them out seems as intolerable as it is insulting.
And what surprises her most about it all is that his remark of "us" had hit her harder than expected, too. She's never begrudged her classmates their friendships; most of the time, she's been content to refrain from that sort of attachment. She likes being alone. It's what she knows.
Something about the way this conversation went — accepting Celes, defending Mondo, singling out her — has just made her realize that it's only fine to be alone when that's her own choice. When that division is coming from someone else...
...
Evidently she cares more about her classmates and their opinions than perhaps she'd let even herself realize.
But she'll have time to pick that apart later. For now, her expression stays blank, and she decides not to dignify what he's said with an answer.
Instead, she withdraws from the dog herself, offering him one last pat before activating the Pokeball's retrieval mechanism and watching as his tufts of fur and lolling tongue disappear in a flash of red light. When it's done, she pockets the ball and leaves, picking a direction that will take her away from the Pokemon Center so they don't have to trouble with the potential awkwardness of saying goodbye and then failing to actually part ways.
Not that she bothers to say goodbye, either.]