[ The fact that his pretty face is only maimed is enough proof that Amon's powers are not at Akira's disposal. He'd be dead, and horrifically so if the hatred that had flooded his mind was any indication of what his friend truly felt for him. He's not numb to that; he rather be hit a few more times than have that feeling slipping under his skin. There were priorities, ones that put him on the defensive. His feet may be back on the ground but he feels anchored in place.

Was he just having a bad trip? Too much "coping" for his slipping sanity?

He doesn't even need the contact to feel the anger pouring off of Akira and he's stuck musing to himself that it had been his place to direct and give that energy a purpose before. It'd never meant to backlash and hit him instead.

Maybe he's still half believing this is some terrible, terrible dream that has him silent. Just staring at Akira like he's trying to will him to be anything but this. Akira had reiterated that the blond had done something Pretty Bad but he's quickly not wanting to stoke his own curiosity. ]

I've never played dumb with you, Akira. I've always told you how things were even if you didn't like it! The last thing I remember was waking from the hospital and shooting Sirene.

[ "Eradicating this world, too" ... ??? No. ]

Whatever happened to you? That's not me.

[ If he were more open on sentimental motions he'd add "I wouldn't hurt you" but alas. ]