The tiniest smile pulled at Ichijou's lips when Jamie arrived and Wash started to press down on the deepest of his wounds. He would have liked to have even more contact, possibly even to be held, but the thought was simply too embarrassing to verbalize. Even in such a dire situation, Ichijou tried to retain his sense of pride - shamelessly asking to be cradled and comforted was just too much.
Though his heart wasn't getting everything it desired, it remained strangely grateful. He was afraid, terrified even, but this was for better or worse a much more benevolent end than he had been expecting. He was in decent company, wasn't being mocked or tortured, and in a way his companions were even offering to put an easy end to his pain.
Ichijou was also familiar with the myth of zombies, mostly from overhearing his coworkers chattering about the latest movie or whatever. The little trace of a smile faded in favor of a profoundly sad sort of expression, and he nodded along with Wash's explanation of the undead creatures. He gave it a double affirmation with a shaky "I know."
Becoming a violent undead monster wasn't dignified, and if his pride could hold him back from asking to be held, it certainly could hold him back from letting himself "live" like that as well. Ichijou wished to prolong his life as much as possible (as he imagined most people would) but he knew that letting himself reach that state was no substitute for actually being alive. Zombijou would have had the same body, sure, but it wouldn't have been him. And having someone romping around with his beautiful visage that didn't share his wonderful personality was completely unacceptable.
The part about coming back to life intrigued him. Hadn't Fuu told him about something like that in the past? And come to think of it, why would his mystery tormentor let his favorite toy (or so Ichijou assumed, since he believed he had the exclusive privilege of being harassed by him) go that easily? Even if he wouldn't actually come back, he was screwed either way - but one option led to eternal rest and the other led to becoming a disgusting nuisance to some of the few people who had ever treated him well.
The tears were still flowing and Ichijou couldn't adequately hide just how afraid he was. But he still looked directly at Wash and Jamie and attempted to speak with authority.
Very weak, broken, scared authority. His lungs strained to push the words harder than his previous resigned and soft manner of speaking:
"Let me become one of them," he demanded, "and I'll never forgive you."
From there Ichijou clenched his teeth and stared up in waiting. He didn't know if they were going to give him any sort of warning before acting but in any case he planned on maintaining his tearful stare at Jamie and Wash so that he could continue to see his company, right up to the point when his eyes would no longer be able to send information to his brain.
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Though his heart wasn't getting everything it desired, it remained strangely grateful. He was afraid, terrified even, but this was for better or worse a much more benevolent end than he had been expecting. He was in decent company, wasn't being mocked or tortured, and in a way his companions were even offering to put an easy end to his pain.
Ichijou was also familiar with the myth of zombies, mostly from overhearing his coworkers chattering about the latest movie or whatever. The little trace of a smile faded in favor of a profoundly sad sort of expression, and he nodded along with Wash's explanation of the undead creatures. He gave it a double affirmation with a shaky "I know."
Becoming a violent undead monster wasn't dignified, and if his pride could hold him back from asking to be held, it certainly could hold him back from letting himself "live" like that as well. Ichijou wished to prolong his life as much as possible (as he imagined most people would) but he knew that letting himself reach that state was no substitute for actually being alive. Zombijou would have had the same body, sure, but it wouldn't have been him. And having someone romping around with his beautiful visage that didn't share his wonderful personality was completely unacceptable.
The part about coming back to life intrigued him. Hadn't Fuu told him about something like that in the past? And come to think of it, why would his mystery tormentor let his favorite toy (or so Ichijou assumed, since he believed he had the exclusive privilege of being harassed by him) go that easily? Even if he wouldn't actually come back, he was screwed either way - but one option led to eternal rest and the other led to becoming a disgusting nuisance to some of the few people who had ever treated him well.
The tears were still flowing and Ichijou couldn't adequately hide just how afraid he was. But he still looked directly at Wash and Jamie and attempted to speak with authority.
Very weak, broken, scared authority. His lungs strained to push the words harder than his previous resigned and soft manner of speaking:
"Let me become one of them," he demanded, "and I'll never forgive you."
From there Ichijou clenched his teeth and stared up in waiting. He didn't know if they were going to give him any sort of warning before acting but in any case he planned on maintaining his tearful stare at Jamie and Wash so that he could continue to see his company, right up to the point when his eyes would no longer be able to send information to his brain.