(Earth, maybe. Sure, he's had friends on the ship, but they weren't close. Didn't care overmuch when he came battered and bruised, only raised their brows and asked him what happened. They didn't fret. And when he'd become this, the vast majority of them had pulled away entirely. Cordial, short greetings and little smiles while passing in the halls that have very little eye contact attached.
Earth, probably. His father, soft-eyed and sorry after Hugh had come out of the latest row with his mother shaking from rage. There with a cup of his favorite tea - hibiscus and honey - and soft, comfy quiet out on the veranda, the open invitation to talk if he wanted to. His only real solid boyfriend, those cheap silver caps on his teeth glittering when he'd laugh and tell Hugh he didn't have to start fights over him at the bars, he already had him.
Earth. Down below, far away.)
Hugh blinks away a film of wetness he hadn't intended to let build, waits until Cassius turns to the table to do it. Thumb at the corner of his strange eye discreetly, the tears thick and murky there, sticky like oil. Takes in that solemnity with open surprise, forcing up a bark of wet laughter he doesn't feel. Shaking his head. If he keeps it moving, maybe the emotion won't translate.
"...They don't like me, here. Not the vast majority of them." A quiet admission. A little slump to his normally broad, straight shoulders. Hugh's eyes settle on Cassius' hands and stay there, his own hanging loose at his sides now. "Just - looking for a reason, really. You're not the cause, only an excuse. They don't--"
A beat. They don't like monsters here. That's true enough, but it also isn't the entire truth, is it. He starts again, softer.
"The thing... that made me. Into what I am. It did a lot of damage to these people, Cassius." His hands flex emptily. He studies the lines in his palms as he has done for hours, obsessing over every little line and nick and pale scar. Looking for any sign of something awful, something strange. "I never really told you what I am, did I? That I wasn't always like this."
no subject
(Earth, maybe. Sure, he's had friends on the ship, but they weren't close. Didn't care overmuch when he came battered and bruised, only raised their brows and asked him what happened. They didn't fret. And when he'd become this, the vast majority of them had pulled away entirely. Cordial, short greetings and little smiles while passing in the halls that have very little eye contact attached.
Earth, probably. His father, soft-eyed and sorry after Hugh had come out of the latest row with his mother shaking from rage. There with a cup of his favorite tea - hibiscus and honey - and soft, comfy quiet out on the veranda, the open invitation to talk if he wanted to. His only real solid boyfriend, those cheap silver caps on his teeth glittering when he'd laugh and tell Hugh he didn't have to start fights over him at the bars, he already had him.
Earth. Down below, far away.)
Hugh blinks away a film of wetness he hadn't intended to let build, waits until Cassius turns to the table to do it. Thumb at the corner of his strange eye discreetly, the tears thick and murky there, sticky like oil. Takes in that solemnity with open surprise, forcing up a bark of wet laughter he doesn't feel. Shaking his head. If he keeps it moving, maybe the emotion won't translate.
"...They don't like me, here. Not the vast majority of them." A quiet admission. A little slump to his normally broad, straight shoulders. Hugh's eyes settle on Cassius' hands and stay there, his own hanging loose at his sides now. "Just - looking for a reason, really. You're not the cause, only an excuse. They don't--"
A beat. They don't like monsters here. That's true enough, but it also isn't the entire truth, is it. He starts again, softer.
"The thing... that made me. Into what I am. It did a lot of damage to these people, Cassius." His hands flex emptily. He studies the lines in his palms as he has done for hours, obsessing over every little line and nick and pale scar. Looking for any sign of something awful, something strange. "I never really told you what I am, did I? That I wasn't always like this."