Of course guns meant killing, Aoba thought. It was precisely what they were made for. He wasn’t about to argue semantics with Declan, however, and didn’t want to. The semantics of it all weren’t the point, and neither did Aoba have anything like an intention to convince his friend otherwise. He could tell that this was just something they were going to inherently disagree on, however gently, and all he wanted was for Declan to understand why.
The idea of straight up using Declan as a shield made him feel pretty sick, though, lowering a piece of food back to his plate unbitten. Some sort of shield ability was one thing, but as a proverbial meat shield? Armored Titan or not, Aoba could not see himself adding to any risk the Guardian was in that way.
“I said I’ll carry them, and I’ll carry them,” Aoba reiterated, but again without sting. He wasn’t snapping. He was uncomfortable and unhappy with the idea, but as he’d said, he wasn’t angry. “I may not want to use them myself, but at the very least I can carry them for you.”
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The idea of straight up using Declan as a shield made him feel pretty sick, though, lowering a piece of food back to his plate unbitten. Some sort of shield ability was one thing, but as a proverbial meat shield? Armored Titan or not, Aoba could not see himself adding to any risk the Guardian was in that way.
“I said I’ll carry them, and I’ll carry them,” Aoba reiterated, but again without sting. He wasn’t snapping. He was uncomfortable and unhappy with the idea, but as he’d said, he wasn’t angry. “I may not want to use them myself, but at the very least I can carry them for you.”