"Oh yeah, I know that. Met plenty of people similar to me." Ones that, for a long time, had no sense of identity outside of the death they could generate. They were weapons with tongues to lash out with, knives with beating hearts. Yondu's rebuilt personhood is built in handfuls of joyful little trinkets with no purpose other than to be liked.
Sometimes there's something deeply significant in having no purpose besides prompting fondness.
But that's beside the point. The normalcy in having peers with your problems is oddly comforting, especially when they don't come with the threat that peers would usually mean in his home universe. When he first showed up, he had used his skills from doing Ego's dirty jobs to corral kids. But he can't bring himself to mention that, that their sins can help them now. It's not much of a comfort.
"You're just fucked up enough to relate to folks what need ya. Even if ya only got eight stains on your shirt, an' everbody else has so many notches on their belts they can barely hold their britches up."
I don't know what this metaphor is but I sure as shit typed it anyway
Sometimes there's something deeply significant in having no purpose besides prompting fondness.
But that's beside the point. The normalcy in having peers with your problems is oddly comforting, especially when they don't come with the threat that peers would usually mean in his home universe. When he first showed up, he had used his skills from doing Ego's dirty jobs to corral kids. But he can't bring himself to mention that, that their sins can help them now. It's not much of a comfort.
"You're just fucked up enough to relate to folks what need ya. Even if ya only got eight stains on your shirt, an' everbody else has so many notches on their belts they can barely hold their britches up."