"They got decent sugar each month. But... I ain't sure where the milk comes from. People assume Terran cows or similar. Seems to work to take the bite out of it."
Just a casual conversation as this little stranger child looks absolutely comfortable down there. He's guessing unless the battle acts up extra noisy (but it's lasted this long without getting spooked awake) or a surge of pure child energy hits it and it springs to life, she's doomed for a bit.
Nothing left but the church? Almost the opposite of being left with nothing but Ravagers. He almost makes a comment as such, but he's mid-drink and it's the misfortune of being mid-drink that when she says she was married at twelve that he inhales a bit, sputters a little, and wipes his face with the scarf around his neck and a furrow in his brow.
There's no complaints about it. He's not got the right to judge and he knows fuck all about that culture. Might be totally normal and that might be just fine. If it ain't somethin' she's glad of, he knows how damn bad it feels for those kind of situations to be called out. He never quite feels like someone's concerned for him when they do it to him, he always feels like he was too damn helpless to correct his bad situation.
So he just clears his throat, using his empty fist to muffle it and coffee held away. "I just got Peter left but I think he's gonna do just fine. He'd already left home... a lot damn older'n you. Thirty-some. But I's worried how he'd make it out there. But uh... I always had a bunch of people around. Get real lonely when I'm all by myself."
She seems kind, and that last bit is easy enough to say. Despite having met harsher parties earlier this month that slipped right under his radar, good at playing safe and curious, she actually seems to be genuine with it. But the fact she's letting this strange alien use her for a pillow is probably doing half the work.
this tag ended up WAY longer than I expected and I'm sorry
Just a casual conversation as this little stranger child looks absolutely comfortable down there. He's guessing unless the battle acts up extra noisy (but it's lasted this long without getting spooked awake) or a surge of pure child energy hits it and it springs to life, she's doomed for a bit.
Nothing left but the church? Almost the opposite of being left with nothing but Ravagers. He almost makes a comment as such, but he's mid-drink and it's the misfortune of being mid-drink that when she says she was married at twelve that he inhales a bit, sputters a little, and wipes his face with the scarf around his neck and a furrow in his brow.
There's no complaints about it. He's not got the right to judge and he knows fuck all about that culture. Might be totally normal and that might be just fine. If it ain't somethin' she's glad of, he knows how damn bad it feels for those kind of situations to be called out. He never quite feels like someone's concerned for him when they do it to him, he always feels like he was too damn helpless to correct his bad situation.
So he just clears his throat, using his empty fist to muffle it and coffee held away. "I just got Peter left but I think he's gonna do just fine. He'd already left home... a lot damn older'n you. Thirty-some. But I's worried how he'd make it out there. But uh... I always had a bunch of people around. Get real lonely when I'm all by myself."
She seems kind, and that last bit is easy enough to say. Despite having met harsher parties earlier this month that slipped right under his radar, good at playing safe and curious, she actually seems to be genuine with it. But the fact she's letting this strange alien use her for a pillow is probably doing half the work.