[He is not calm. He is not orderly. He doesn't want her feelings, all square straight lines and deliberate easiness. If there's an offer, it's flatly rejected: undermined and sliced away by the driving, churning, liquid fear.
They've been on the planet too long. They're taking something for granted that they should be told the new little minds. Something else should be been included in the briefing and when someone gets hurt or dies, it's going to be their fault. His fault. He wrote the first drafts. He's going to be responsible and it's going to happen. He knows it will.
Nirad's room is a disaster. There's junk all over every flat surface, disassmbled tech and clothes draped everywhere. That he's not in his bed is obvious enough by the low blue light from the custom wall, but the scrabbling choked noises he's making means it's easy to find where he's sitting on the floor on the far side of the bed. He's slumped low. He isn't crying but he's chewing on the scarred pad of his thumb, smearing blood on his front teeth.
He's not crying. He promised himself he wouldn't do that again.]
no subject
They've been on the planet too long. They're taking something for granted that they should be told the new little minds. Something else should be been included in the briefing and when someone gets hurt or dies, it's going to be their fault. His fault. He wrote the first drafts. He's going to be responsible and it's going to happen. He knows it will.
Nirad's room is a disaster. There's junk all over every flat surface, disassmbled tech and clothes draped everywhere. That he's not in his bed is obvious enough by the low blue light from the custom wall, but the scrabbling choked noises he's making means it's easy to find where he's sitting on the floor on the far side of the bed. He's slumped low. He isn't crying but he's chewing on the scarred pad of his thumb, smearing blood on his front teeth.
He's not crying. He promised himself he wouldn't do that again.]