"I think the word you're looking for is awesome." But then, nobody uses the word 'awesome' as liberally and as frequently as Scott does (except Luis).
Having grown up in a city area and then spent his adulthood in a city area (when he wasn't in prison, anyway), stars are a luxury. Back in university he'd managed to see them more often, walking out of the dormitory and then lying down whenever he felt too stressed with papers and lab assignments. He'd watched and he'd watched, searched and searched, felt like he was looking for answers to questions he didn't even know yet--ironic as it is, Scott finds comfort in knowing he's a tiny piece in an endless universe. It makes him feel less alone.
For all his love of staring, however, Scott's never found the time nor the patience to learn the actual constellations. He thinks he regrets that, a little bit, because now he can't tell Tony any stories like they always do in the movies. But maybe Tony knows constellations more than he does, anyway, so it's no real loss. If anything, it's just good to breathe outdoor air and to know Tony's breathing it, too.
"I like grass," he says, which is stupid out of context, but a little more meaningful with the way his sneakers crunch into the blades beneath them. "And, you know, plants in general. Recently, insects too.
"But God, your old man picked such a good spot to take." Smiling, his gaze finally shifts from the expanse of the world to where Tony walks with him. "And you picked a great spot to rebuild, so. You're awesome, too."
Bending down, Scott grips some grass in his hand, and he pulls hard enough to get the scent of it on his skin, but not enough to pull it out of the dirt. Then, like a kid, he tumbles down until he can lie splayed on top of it.
"Man... I wish there was this much grass near my place..."
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Having grown up in a city area and then spent his adulthood in a city area (when he wasn't in prison, anyway), stars are a luxury. Back in university he'd managed to see them more often, walking out of the dormitory and then lying down whenever he felt too stressed with papers and lab assignments. He'd watched and he'd watched, searched and searched, felt like he was looking for answers to questions he didn't even know yet--ironic as it is, Scott finds comfort in knowing he's a tiny piece in an endless universe. It makes him feel less alone.
For all his love of staring, however, Scott's never found the time nor the patience to learn the actual constellations. He thinks he regrets that, a little bit, because now he can't tell Tony any stories like they always do in the movies. But maybe Tony knows constellations more than he does, anyway, so it's no real loss. If anything, it's just good to breathe outdoor air and to know Tony's breathing it, too.
"I like grass," he says, which is stupid out of context, but a little more meaningful with the way his sneakers crunch into the blades beneath them. "And, you know, plants in general. Recently, insects too.
"But God, your old man picked such a good spot to take." Smiling, his gaze finally shifts from the expanse of the world to where Tony walks with him. "And you picked a great spot to rebuild, so. You're awesome, too."
Bending down, Scott grips some grass in his hand, and he pulls hard enough to get the scent of it on his skin, but not enough to pull it out of the dirt. Then, like a kid, he tumbles down until he can lie splayed on top of it.
"Man... I wish there was this much grass near my place..."