"I mean...if it were up to me, I'd let you do what you want. I'd worry, of course, but you're your own person and you've got the right to choose, even if the choice is stupid," the Warlock remarked, not at all afraid to cock-up.
"Declan isn't like me. He actually tries to stay alive. Has some sort of weird private math in his head. One of his deaths might mean dozens of other deaths, or something. Me, I see it like...I die dozens of times, it means absolutely nothing one way or the other. I just come back, get up, dust myself off, try again. then again, I'm a Warlock, not a Titan. I'm no giant wall protecting people, I'm just a damage dealer. I can blow things up like you wouldn't believe, but at the end of the day, unless I kill the bad guy before he kills you, I'm not doing much in the way of saving people in the immediate vicinity, you get me?" A shrug, Mac tossing himself into the pilot's chair and spinning around slowly, eyeing Aoba on his rotations.
"He probably thinks you're squishy and killable and that he'll mess up and not protect you, or that you'll distract him and he'll end up in a pinch or something. I don't know, I'm not psychic. I do know I don't wanna be responsible if something happens to you. You may never have seen Declan go off, but when he does, it's pretty scary. I don't want to be on the wrong end of his fist. I have seen him literally punch a person's head off. Just BOOF, pink mist. It. Was. Horrifying. And he wasn't even mad at the time. Just out of ammunition!" He shuddered and grimaced, shaking his head and holding up both hands.
"We can both go looking for him, but I mean...Are you even trained with a gun?"
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"Declan isn't like me. He actually tries to stay alive. Has some sort of weird private math in his head. One of his deaths might mean dozens of other deaths, or something. Me, I see it like...I die dozens of times, it means absolutely nothing one way or the other. I just come back, get up, dust myself off, try again. then again, I'm a Warlock, not a Titan. I'm no giant wall protecting people, I'm just a damage dealer. I can blow things up like you wouldn't believe, but at the end of the day, unless I kill the bad guy before he kills you, I'm not doing much in the way of saving people in the immediate vicinity, you get me?" A shrug, Mac tossing himself into the pilot's chair and spinning around slowly, eyeing Aoba on his rotations.
"He probably thinks you're squishy and killable and that he'll mess up and not protect you, or that you'll distract him and he'll end up in a pinch or something. I don't know, I'm not psychic. I do know I don't wanna be responsible if something happens to you. You may never have seen Declan go off, but when he does, it's pretty scary. I don't want to be on the wrong end of his fist. I have seen him literally punch a person's head off. Just BOOF, pink mist. It. Was. Horrifying. And he wasn't even mad at the time. Just out of ammunition!" He shuddered and grimaced, shaking his head and holding up both hands.
"We can both go looking for him, but I mean...Are you even trained with a gun?"