"And that was morally reprehensible too! Fuck your parents for doing that to you!" Devero slams one of those fists against the table, furious on Yondu's behalf that he got sold into slavery as a baby. Sir Beepers actually gets bounced by the impact, immediately switching on its lifter and hovering up off the table. It fixes its camera eye on Devero, the light ring around it flashing to yellow.
The query repeats itself, and since Yondu's brought the tablet to his attention, he snatches it and turns away to respond. Negative, and again, negative, hitting the screen far harder than is necessary to select his responses. The light ring surrounding the drone's eye resets to blue and Beepers floats slowly closer, tucking its fore-points back and extending its neck towards its primary user with an uncertain digital chirp.
Devero ignores it, bringing up a foot to brace on the edge of the seat and folding up around it. He runs his hand through his hair, fisting up the tousled locks at the crown of his head and thunking his forehead down into his knee. The pain should ground him, but it doesn't.
"You left a big ol' crater," he says into the cramped space between his thigh and his chest. That, he doesn't doubt. "But if that's one of the train's big criteria, I sure as fuck wouldn't be here." He forces his fingers loose, forces himself to unbend, forces himself to breathe deeply and hold it and release slow before he continues. "Where I come from, mate, I'm a nobody. I didn't leave any hole behind that probably isn't already filled with someone more suitable."
He breathes through the cycle again, trying to release his impotent fury and frustration into the air, then finally straightens the rest of the way and turns back to the table. He sets the tablet back to where it was. "It doesn't matter," he says, trying to dismiss his whole embarrassing outburst with a wave of his head. "We're here, those kids are here; all we can do is make it work."
no subject
The query repeats itself, and since Yondu's brought the tablet to his attention, he snatches it and turns away to respond. Negative, and again, negative, hitting the screen far harder than is necessary to select his responses. The light ring surrounding the drone's eye resets to blue and Beepers floats slowly closer, tucking its fore-points back and extending its neck towards its primary user with an uncertain digital chirp.
Devero ignores it, bringing up a foot to brace on the edge of the seat and folding up around it. He runs his hand through his hair, fisting up the tousled locks at the crown of his head and thunking his forehead down into his knee. The pain should ground him, but it doesn't.
"You left a big ol' crater," he says into the cramped space between his thigh and his chest. That, he doesn't doubt. "But if that's one of the train's big criteria, I sure as fuck wouldn't be here." He forces his fingers loose, forces himself to unbend, forces himself to breathe deeply and hold it and release slow before he continues. "Where I come from, mate, I'm a nobody. I didn't leave any hole behind that probably isn't already filled with someone more suitable."
He breathes through the cycle again, trying to release his impotent fury and frustration into the air, then finally straightens the rest of the way and turns back to the table. He sets the tablet back to where it was. "It doesn't matter," he says, trying to dismiss his whole embarrassing outburst with a wave of his head. "We're here, those kids are here; all we can do is make it work."