objects in mirror may be closer than they appear

"So did Amalthus ever, like, actually do anything to you?"

The Aegis had and brought something innate to be taken advantage of, in power. There was something there to work with, a point of contention; something there to suppress or engender, whereas Minoth, he took it from Mythra's disbelieving yet still innocently, even childishly, curious question, was just...normal. Obviously so - he was a man, not a child, too. Fully grown. Almost like a human. Invulnerable, perhaps? Immune.

"That's a fine-looking Blade you have, Amalthus."

With real admiration, did Baltrich say it, and if there was jealousy or judgement in his voice or eyes, he reserved those not for Minoth, who had a certain dignified look that some other Blades seen hailing from other Titans, with their gaudier...attachments and gimmicks, couldn't match.

"Yes, he is handsome, isn't he?"

Young, unscarred Minoth fairly well preened at the compliment. He was, wasn't he? He was glad Amalthus wasn't afraid to say so.

Then the fluttering turned to more of a shiver, and a shudder, when his Driver's fingers planed along, then grasped, his jaw and chin.

Perhaps admiration of his Core, pristine and a lovely shade of almost unique-looking blue in its gilded mounting. Perhaps an innocent - surely? - wander of the owning hand over the broad chest that bore such a jewel.

(His long hair, which he tied up so carefully and with an almost compulsive eye for stray pieces falling out in the back (that signature runaway in the front, he just had to accept, eventually, was his blessing and curse), ruffled pleasantly at the nape of his neck. He knew it so because Amalthus had grazed there, once, a quasi-clinical examination with no obvious purpose, and thereafter Minoth had, equally as compulsively if not more so, run right index over the line, again, again, and again.)

Perhaps a shuttered but dangerous look, hungry, in Amalthus's eyes, marking for later use what was fine and hale and unblemished.

In retrospect, perhaps that was a gift of some kind of gandering foresight; he should have been glad Amalthus wasn't afraid to...say so.

Amalthus would never own up to it. Minoth wasn't sure there was any possible reason, earthly or unearthly, why he'd want him to.

"No, I suppose not really. We just didn't get along."

Never a single hit.

But it didn't have to smack to be something that stung.