Paul's self-control is nearly perfect. He doesn't blurt things in a rush, with his face crumpled by thwarted concern and eyes heavy with an emotion he will no longer even allow himself to define as he looks at Midoriya trying to hide his tears. His hand doesn't rise in a reaching out cut short, or curl back on itself as he withdraws.
So someone else must have done all of those things, and it is this person who continues, gaze flitting to Danny with brittle fierceness: "He's a great fighter. He never gave up, not once. Never faltered or flinched."
He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know why he's doing it, or who he's defending Midoriya from, or what good can possibly come of it, but it's somehow vitally important that Daniel be told that Midoriya is not so easily defeated. That this sorry, sad state of Midoriya isn't who he is; that he's brave and skilled and relentless.
(That nothing that happened was because he didn't fight hard enough.)
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Paul's self-control is nearly perfect. He doesn't blurt things in a rush, with his face crumpled by thwarted concern and eyes heavy with an emotion he will no longer even allow himself to define as he looks at Midoriya trying to hide his tears. His hand doesn't rise in a reaching out cut short, or curl back on itself as he withdraws.
So someone else must have done all of those things, and it is this person who continues, gaze flitting to Danny with brittle fierceness: "He's a great fighter. He never gave up, not once. Never faltered or flinched."
He doesn't know what he's doing. He doesn't know why he's doing it, or who he's defending Midoriya from, or what good can possibly come of it, but it's somehow vitally important that Daniel be told that Midoriya is not so easily defeated. That this sorry, sad state of Midoriya isn't who he is; that he's brave and skilled and relentless.
(That nothing that happened was because he didn't fight hard enough.)