[He pretends he's following along, but it's hard to form a clear idea of what she's talking about when things stay abstract, unmoored from any kind of personal knowledge and experience. He can know that a Perseid is probably another kind of alien, but without an idea of what it looks like, who it is, what it sounds like, it's all just sort of words floating in blankness. But he nods and he smiles and he tries to mock up some ideas to pack into the new concepts.
The way she talks about friends is warm enough to make him wish he was among their number, and then she tells him he is. It's a sense of acceptance he didn't know how badly he was craving, how much he needed after the endless squabbles and fights with the rest of the group.
He wants to protest that he isn't sad, but he stops because the truth is, he is. He misses home even though there's nothing really left for him there, he's in pain and feeling guilty and ineffective, he's tired down to his bones. He's been sad for weeks, longer than that, even, until it's like a layer of moss that he never noticed was growing under his skin.]
I just figured other people might need your healing, and since you can't do anything about that knife problem...hey, do you drink?
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The way she talks about friends is warm enough to make him wish he was among their number, and then she tells him he is. It's a sense of acceptance he didn't know how badly he was craving, how much he needed after the endless squabbles and fights with the rest of the group.
He wants to protest that he isn't sad, but he stops because the truth is, he is. He misses home even though there's nothing really left for him there, he's in pain and feeling guilty and ineffective, he's tired down to his bones. He's been sad for weeks, longer than that, even, until it's like a layer of moss that he never noticed was growing under his skin.]
I just figured other people might need your healing, and since you can't do anything about that knife problem...hey, do you drink?