The Bull picks up what he can. Habit, not need. Yeah there's no one to report to any more, but there's no anything else either. Not here. Doesn't matter what he manages to figure out. Still: no real conclusion from the question of how they treat their people. The Sith aggression thing's interesting, something to make sense out of later. Aden wants to dress him up, but probably not for the same reasons Vivienne likes to. Liked. Maybe something about the shorts don't work. It's nothing he can figure out from the look Aden gives him. Maybe he should be able to figure it out, but he can't. Shove it in the box with all the other things he can't figure out any more. Box is overflowing, but it'll hold for a little while longer.
Wherever this is has an emperor, too. He notes that. Says a little about the place even if he doesn't know any of the details yet.
And he makes a note of Theron. The way Aden lit up the moment he started talking to the husband. More than one thing there: If he wanted to get in with Aden, if this was the kind of situation he'd at least know how to handle, whether or not he liked it, getting in with Theron would be the way to get there. And then there's-- Well, it's just nice to see, he guesses. Nice to have that sort of light there in the room with him, even if he can't really touch it right now.
If the thing holding him in the Fade dropped him here-- if getting sent from there was the only way any of them trapped there had any hope of getting home-- He thinks about Vivienne first, because the tailor thing's already got him thinking about her. The way she chided him for tearing the last outfit she had made, the way she'd smiled when she said it. Not the calculated smile she gives most of the rest of the time, that kind of smile when you're retreading an old worn-in argument with someone else who gets as much out of it as you do and it's just comfortable. He thinks about the last breakfast he remembers back there, all his guys around him, Krem's elbow shoving its way against Bull's ribs and his hand messing up Krem's hair. The way his hair felt, weirdly, that comes to him too. All sorts of little details stick that way, once it starts sinking in that you're never going to see someone again.
Probably he should be grateful. First time this has happened to him when no one's actually died.
He takes a drink, bigger than his last few, takes a slow breath through his nose. Tries to pay attention to their conversation, then remembers it doesn't matter. He's not going to interrupt, and it's probably a bad idea to drink this whole thing, or maybe even too much more than he already has.
Nothing to do but wait. It's not like he has any control over any of it. Might be the only good thing about this situation, knowing someone else has the reins of the situation and all there is to do is follow.
"Yes, tailors tend to take a look at me and crank the price up," he mutters, maybe belatedly. "Sorry."
no subject
Wherever this is has an emperor, too. He notes that. Says a little about the place even if he doesn't know any of the details yet.
And he makes a note of Theron. The way Aden lit up the moment he started talking to the husband. More than one thing there: If he wanted to get in with Aden, if this was the kind of situation he'd at least know how to handle, whether or not he liked it, getting in with Theron would be the way to get there. And then there's-- Well, it's just nice to see, he guesses. Nice to have that sort of light there in the room with him, even if he can't really touch it right now.
If the thing holding him in the Fade dropped him here-- if getting sent from there was the only way any of them trapped there had any hope of getting home-- He thinks about Vivienne first, because the tailor thing's already got him thinking about her. The way she chided him for tearing the last outfit she had made, the way she'd smiled when she said it. Not the calculated smile she gives most of the rest of the time, that kind of smile when you're retreading an old worn-in argument with someone else who gets as much out of it as you do and it's just comfortable. He thinks about the last breakfast he remembers back there, all his guys around him, Krem's elbow shoving its way against Bull's ribs and his hand messing up Krem's hair. The way his hair felt, weirdly, that comes to him too. All sorts of little details stick that way, once it starts sinking in that you're never going to see someone again.
Probably he should be grateful. First time this has happened to him when no one's actually died.
He takes a drink, bigger than his last few, takes a slow breath through his nose. Tries to pay attention to their conversation, then remembers it doesn't matter. He's not going to interrupt, and it's probably a bad idea to drink this whole thing, or maybe even too much more than he already has.
Nothing to do but wait. It's not like he has any control over any of it. Might be the only good thing about this situation, knowing someone else has the reins of the situation and all there is to do is follow.
"Yes, tailors tend to take a look at me and crank the price up," he mutters, maybe belatedly. "Sorry."