[ He's placid, at first, still staring at Black Mist with that open, vulnerable expression. Still lost and unfocused by the way it spoke before, and slow to regain himself.

(because he wants it, because he wants to give in)

(but he--)

IV jerks, though, when his head clears. Squirms in its hold and fixing it with a look that's a whole lot less vulnerable.

(except it's not, except it cracks beneath the surface with what he wants, needs) ]

What are you--?

[ He's held up like he's on display and IV shivers, fear and discomfort and pleasure and need warring in him. He wants attention. He wants to know people are looking at him.

(but he doesn't want them to look, because he is a monster)

(because they ought to cast their eyes away from him, as Tron does)

He makes a quiet, distressed noise in the back of his throat, chokes it down the best he can. ]