( A snort, inelegant. The hand holding the bottle sinks into the sand, the little left in the bottle not quite spilling. He watches Gojo for a long moment, smudged eyes, and endless exhaustion. If he looks hard enough he can see the same strained threads in his old friend's face. Is it terrible to hope? It just might be. Is he going to try and do it anyway? Yes. )
When did you become so optimistic?
( He might not mean for an actual answer, it's more mumbled musing than anything else. The waves keep crashing before them, and Geto hums, lifts the bottle to drain the last mouthful. He pulls a face, childish. )
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When did you become so optimistic?
( He might not mean for an actual answer, it's more mumbled musing than anything else. The waves keep crashing before them, and Geto hums, lifts the bottle to drain the last mouthful. He pulls a face, childish. )
Ugh.