[ 'I think you would have liked it. Traveling with them.'
That gets him to lower his gaze from the skies. Gen glances over to fix a quiet stare at Eustace, assessing him in silence for a moment, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of that statement. (Except he knows better than to really doubt the sincerity of what Eustace says. If Eustace didn't mean something, he simply wouldn't say it at all, would he.)
When he finally gives a soft laugh in response, it's a low noise. Dry and weary, as opposed to derisive, lacking in his usual teenage derision and arrogance, accompanied by a small shake of the head. ]
... what was it like. The crew you were with.
[ It says something, doesn't it. The fact that he doesn't actually address the thought of himself living that nomadic lifestyle -- he knows that freedom isn't for him. Maybe back when he was much younger he might have been able to entertain the fantasy of such a carefree existence. But now he knows better. He's a creature of burdens and obligations; he doesn't know any other way to exist.
There's the rustle of fabric as Gen fishes through his pocket to withdraw ... the small paper packet Eustace had seen him purchase earlier. Candy, as it turns out. Gen opens the packet to pop one in his mouth, looks around briefly to make sure the coast is clear, then holds the packet out -- he'll tap one out for Eustace too, if he wants. ]
Was it mostly people like you? [ The candy clicks against his teeth as he rolls it in his mouth, giving a brief, thoughtful hum. ] What did you even do in a crew like that, anyway? Guess you served as a bodyguard for a transport company or something.
no subject
That gets him to lower his gaze from the skies. Gen glances over to fix a quiet stare at Eustace, assessing him in silence for a moment, as if trying to gauge the sincerity of that statement. (Except he knows better than to really doubt the sincerity of what Eustace says. If Eustace didn't mean something, he simply wouldn't say it at all, would he.)
When he finally gives a soft laugh in response, it's a low noise. Dry and weary, as opposed to derisive, lacking in his usual teenage derision and arrogance, accompanied by a small shake of the head. ]
... what was it like. The crew you were with.
[ It says something, doesn't it. The fact that he doesn't actually address the thought of himself living that nomadic lifestyle -- he knows that freedom isn't for him. Maybe back when he was much younger he might have been able to entertain the fantasy of such a carefree existence. But now he knows better. He's a creature of burdens and obligations; he doesn't know any other way to exist.
There's the rustle of fabric as Gen fishes through his pocket to withdraw ... the small paper packet Eustace had seen him purchase earlier. Candy, as it turns out. Gen opens the packet to pop one in his mouth, looks around briefly to make sure the coast is clear, then holds the packet out -- he'll tap one out for Eustace too, if he wants. ]
Was it mostly people like you? [ The candy clicks against his teeth as he rolls it in his mouth, giving a brief, thoughtful hum. ] What did you even do in a crew like that, anyway? Guess you served as a bodyguard for a transport company or something.