It's sharp, that. Unbidden. A painful sound punched right out of him in the shape of a laugh with none of the softness, all the wrong angles. Too many points, too many edges. Leaning his side into Cassius helps a little, but not entirely. The effort to shield him from their prying stares, the drone that sets their teeth on edge and drowns out his words. It's a kindness he didn't expect. That he doesn't deserve.
(He put Cassius in a cage. Gold bars and Gatstronauts don't change the shape of it. Knows it's for his safety too, that Hugh didn't have a choice, but--)
You will remain Doctor Hugh to me either way, Doctor Hugh.
When's the last time someone saw him as Doctor Hugh and not so much else? That well-loved bastard Singh, probably, and even his looks edge into piteous sometimes. Unbearable sympathy. He'd rather be alone.
"There - there was this creature. YS, they call themselves." Eees, as he says it. His body language turns strange at the mention of it, tighter and tenser in on himself. "They were... we thought they were attacking the ship. Had these spores, you know, sort of - hooked into the brainstem and took control of people. Irreversible. I was the only one who could - would communicate with them. They were so..."
A pause. His words come softer.
"...Lonely."
And they were. Are. He feels it now more keenly for having had him. The strong, homemade liquor helps numb it in the dead of night when he has nothing else to think of.
"And I was there for them. I was there for them and they - they didn't want me to be human, as I was. To live, and to die. They can't die. Will never - die. They..."
Hugh drops a hand to gentle encircle Cassius' wrist, guide it up the back of his shirt at an angle where no one else can see. Feel all those little fluttering pits up and down his spine, the grooves of cool pearly carapace around them. In lines between his ribs. More spore pits, there. He's got so many of them now.
"Wanted. To make me something more. And now I can't stop it."
So the ship hates him. Fears him. Resents him. He doesn't think he needs to finish the thought for Cassius to understand what those feel like.
"I don't know what I'll be in ten years. Five." A wet noise in his throat. Mirthless laughter. "A hundred. A hundred thousand. I may not be Doctor Hugh anymore, at some point. And I--"
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It's sharp, that. Unbidden. A painful sound punched right out of him in the shape of a laugh with none of the softness, all the wrong angles. Too many points, too many edges. Leaning his side into Cassius helps a little, but not entirely. The effort to shield him from their prying stares, the drone that sets their teeth on edge and drowns out his words. It's a kindness he didn't expect. That he doesn't deserve.
(He put Cassius in a cage. Gold bars and Gatstronauts don't change the shape of it. Knows it's for his safety too, that Hugh didn't have a choice, but--)
You will remain Doctor Hugh to me either way, Doctor Hugh.
When's the last time someone saw him as Doctor Hugh and not so much else? That well-loved bastard Singh, probably, and even his looks edge into piteous sometimes. Unbearable sympathy. He'd rather be alone.
"There - there was this creature. YS, they call themselves." Eees, as he says it. His body language turns strange at the mention of it, tighter and tenser in on himself. "They were... we thought they were attacking the ship. Had these spores, you know, sort of - hooked into the brainstem and took control of people. Irreversible. I was the only one who could - would communicate with them. They were so..."
A pause. His words come softer.
"...Lonely."
And they were. Are. He feels it now more keenly for having had him. The strong, homemade liquor helps numb it in the dead of night when he has nothing else to think of.
"And I was there for them. I was there for them and they - they didn't want me to be human, as I was. To live, and to die. They can't die. Will never - die. They..."
Hugh drops a hand to gentle encircle Cassius' wrist, guide it up the back of his shirt at an angle where no one else can see. Feel all those little fluttering pits up and down his spine, the grooves of cool pearly carapace around them. In lines between his ribs. More spore pits, there. He's got so many of them now.
"Wanted. To make me something more. And now I can't stop it."
So the ship hates him. Fears him. Resents him. He doesn't think he needs to finish the thought for Cassius to understand what those feel like.
"I don't know what I'll be in ten years. Five." A wet noise in his throat. Mirthless laughter. "A hundred. A hundred thousand. I may not be Doctor Hugh anymore, at some point. And I--"
A swallow. His voice is thick.
"It scares me, Cassius."