[He listens. He really, truly listens. Because he's aware of how important any information at all she gives him is. It's his survival.
But - damn.
Does the food ever taste good.
He knows how to eat politely thanks to his family and even a year in captivity isn't enough to break that kind of ingrained teaching. But the military taught him to eat fast and a year as a slave taught him to eat even faster and all he really wants to do is inhale his meal just as fast as he can before someone takes it away from him. Except - he can't. He knows he can't. And its not even a matter of savoring the taste.
He hasn't had decent food in over a year and he hasn't had enough to support himself on what they had given him. He's been at a low level of starvation for over a year now - and his stomach just won't be able to handle it if he eats the way he wants to. He's blessed with an iron cast stomach for the most part but - its been a long time. If the food is half as rich as it tastes -
He forces himself to go slow, to chew, to swallow, to pause, and it is one of the hardest fights he's had to have with his body and his brain in a long time. Her giving him something else to talk about helps and at one point he gets up to get himself a glass of water and give what he has eaten time to settle. And as much as he listens to everything she tells him, the opening of which they'd both already assumed -
when she says she still means for him to pilot the ship -
His attention to her sharpens even more.
And he feels that treacherous spark of hope again despite himself.
The rest makes sense - but he gets the idea that he's missing parts of it as well that would make it make more sense. Nuance to a language he barely speaks.
How does a ship 'shut itself down'? AI sentience? It can choose not to cooperate?
... that should worry him. Not... make him feel -
welcome?
He doesn't lose her train of conversation though, sitting back down on the bed but leaving the food alone for a little while no matter how much his brain is still telling him its hungry and he needs to eat. He slowly works his way through the cup of water instead. And nothing rings any bells with him until - ]
Voltron? [That's a familiar word and he doesn't try to hide that from her. If he's in this - he's in this. His brows come down but he nods even as he frowns, fills in what, very, little he knows.]
I've never heard of paladins, not in the sense you're talking about probably or any Black Lion. [He'll leave out her asking about growling in his head the last time they talked for the moment.] But - Voltron. A little. It's - a weapon? The Galra want it. Recently. I never heard about it when I was first captured but lately... something's going on. [He looks at her and finds that he wants to ask about the Lion. Which shouldn't be his priority. So he asks what should.]
no subject
But - damn.
Does the food ever taste good.
He knows how to eat politely thanks to his family and even a year in captivity isn't enough to break that kind of ingrained teaching. But the military taught him to eat fast and a year as a slave taught him to eat even faster and all he really wants to do is inhale his meal just as fast as he can before someone takes it away from him. Except - he can't. He knows he can't. And its not even a matter of savoring the taste.
He hasn't had decent food in over a year and he hasn't had enough to support himself on what they had given him. He's been at a low level of starvation for over a year now - and his stomach just won't be able to handle it if he eats the way he wants to. He's blessed with an iron cast stomach for the most part but - its been a long time. If the food is half as rich as it tastes -
He forces himself to go slow, to chew, to swallow, to pause, and it is one of the hardest fights he's had to have with his body and his brain in a long time. Her giving him something else to talk about helps and at one point he gets up to get himself a glass of water and give what he has eaten time to settle. And as much as he listens to everything she tells him, the opening of which they'd both already assumed -
when she says she still means for him to pilot the ship -
His attention to her sharpens even more.
And he feels that treacherous spark of hope again despite himself.
The rest makes sense - but he gets the idea that he's missing parts of it as well that would make it make more sense. Nuance to a language he barely speaks.
How does a ship 'shut itself down'? AI sentience? It can choose not to cooperate?
... that should worry him. Not... make him feel -
welcome?
He doesn't lose her train of conversation though, sitting back down on the bed but leaving the food alone for a little while no matter how much his brain is still telling him its hungry and he needs to eat. He slowly works his way through the cup of water instead. And nothing rings any bells with him until - ]
Voltron? [That's a familiar word and he doesn't try to hide that from her. If he's in this - he's in this. His brows come down but he nods even as he frowns, fills in what, very, little he knows.]
I've never heard of paladins, not in the sense you're talking about probably or any Black Lion. [He'll leave out her asking about growling in his head the last time they talked for the moment.] But - Voltron. A little. It's - a weapon? The Galra want it. Recently. I never heard about it when I was first captured but lately... something's going on. [He looks at her and finds that he wants to ask about the Lion. Which shouldn't be his priority. So he asks what should.]
What's Voltron?