Midoriya was as likely to get away with deceiving Paul about the nature of this favor as Paul was about convincing Midoriya he was all right with his noxious blue eyes and overly efficient hospitality. Paul straightens up on his stool, the a certain quality of anticipatory tension flowing into his spine and radiating outward.
But he doesn't say anything right away. He looks at Midoriya, whose shattered self is only now coalescing after the last time his friends (Paul among them) were in danger, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Midoriya, who arrived on their doorstep in disguise, who shepherded Paul out of sight as soon as he was able and asked Paul not to look to his future for catastrophe.
He's seen what his friend can do, the immense crackling power that seems barely contained in his body. If there's someone in Trench Midoriya doesn't think he can protect the people he cares about from, someone so dangerous that he doesn't even want Paul to know what the threat is, skimming at its edges in hypotheticals -
It might even be nothing. A measure of security Midoriya hadn't thought of before what happened, and the terrible memories of death and ruin it brought up for him. Paul assumes the worst as a matter of practical caution, but that doesn't mean it's true.
"I don't make a habit of associating people with me unless they do it first. A similar principle. But I'll be more careful with you going forward." Paul flashes a quick, hard-edged smile, one fighter to another down in the gladiatorial pits out of sight of the crowd. "I'll tell the rest of the house the same. If anyone asks after you, what would you like me to say?"
He wants to know. It doesn't mean that he has to, not yet.
no subject
But he doesn't say anything right away. He looks at Midoriya, whose shattered self is only now coalescing after the last time his friends (Paul among them) were in danger, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Midoriya, who arrived on their doorstep in disguise, who shepherded Paul out of sight as soon as he was able and asked Paul not to look to his future for catastrophe.
He's seen what his friend can do, the immense crackling power that seems barely contained in his body. If there's someone in Trench Midoriya doesn't think he can protect the people he cares about from, someone so dangerous that he doesn't even want Paul to know what the threat is, skimming at its edges in hypotheticals -
It might even be nothing. A measure of security Midoriya hadn't thought of before what happened, and the terrible memories of death and ruin it brought up for him. Paul assumes the worst as a matter of practical caution, but that doesn't mean it's true.
"I don't make a habit of associating people with me unless they do it first. A similar principle. But I'll be more careful with you going forward." Paul flashes a quick, hard-edged smile, one fighter to another down in the gladiatorial pits out of sight of the crowd. "I'll tell the rest of the house the same. If anyone asks after you, what would you like me to say?"
He wants to know. It doesn't mean that he has to, not yet.