He looked at the ground, at the stars, anywhere but her. "No!" That part he said almost defensively. "I did ask that if I couldn't be, they bury me somewhere because I didn't want to be ugly and disgusting in a tube like they keep the other dead people. I did not want to be some mystery for some other crew to find later.
"I didn't ask for them not to bring me back. You know, I spent a lot of my free time learning to fly ships. It isn't as if I did not try at all."
"I would love you anyway?" Only then did he find her face again. That beautiful face that he hated seeing like that. "Tali, most of the people I have loved are dead. I have not stopped caring for one of them. But-" he shrugged hard, lifting up his hands. "I still make friends. I still care about people. I still enjoy them while I can because I know they can go away. Having them to care about makes me stronger when I feel shitty and weak. Even if I am pretty sure that-" his shitty decisions would be the end of him or his new companion.
But... it seemed obvious to him that she didn't want to do that. Niko had lost so much he had become desensitized. Somehow in a way that worked out to his advantage. He never held back on friendship. Every living person who treated him well was a gift. For all he'd been betrayed, he'd allowed new souls into his life, consistent in his opinion that those incidents of treachery were flukes. After all, for the violence his father and uncle wielded, his mother and his aunt were loving. For the dirty deals made by Darko Brevic, there were thirteen other people in that unit that always had his back. For ever Dimitri Rascalov, there was a Brucie, Little Jacob, or Dwayne. The joys sin people outnumbered the horrors. Aggression enveloped him easily but paranoia had barely scratched the surface.
And even if more were dead than not, he still clung and violently defended those that were alive. Did his best to find camaraderie in them and have other people that shouldered the weight. He always took care of what little family he had.
"It doesn't sound to me like you want to do that." He lifted his shoulders, stretched his hands in a large shrug. Was he worth doing that? Probably not. It had been his fear anyway. That if he admitted the problem, she would shove him away. It seemed as though he was right. "Look, ah, maybe... I don't know. I won't bother you for a little while." He raised his hands and started to back off. To give her space. Then, switched languages to Khalish. He was still not great at it, but then again, neither was he at English. "I'm sorry I got broken." The worst part was he used a word for "broken" that was closer to an engine part than it was any sort of organic physical weakness.
no subject
"I didn't ask for them not to bring me back. You know, I spent a lot of my free time learning to fly ships. It isn't as if I did not try at all."
"I would love you anyway?" Only then did he find her face again. That beautiful face that he hated seeing like that. "Tali, most of the people I have loved are dead. I have not stopped caring for one of them. But-" he shrugged hard, lifting up his hands. "I still make friends. I still care about people. I still enjoy them while I can because I know they can go away. Having them to care about makes me stronger when I feel shitty and weak. Even if I am pretty sure that-" his shitty decisions would be the end of him or his new companion.
But... it seemed obvious to him that she didn't want to do that. Niko had lost so much he had become desensitized. Somehow in a way that worked out to his advantage. He never held back on friendship. Every living person who treated him well was a gift. For all he'd been betrayed, he'd allowed new souls into his life, consistent in his opinion that those incidents of treachery were flukes. After all, for the violence his father and uncle wielded, his mother and his aunt were loving. For the dirty deals made by Darko Brevic, there were thirteen other people in that unit that always had his back. For ever Dimitri Rascalov, there was a Brucie, Little Jacob, or Dwayne. The joys sin people outnumbered the horrors. Aggression enveloped him easily but paranoia had barely scratched the surface.
And even if more were dead than not, he still clung and violently defended those that were alive. Did his best to find camaraderie in them and have other people that shouldered the weight. He always took care of what little family he had.
"It doesn't sound to me like you want to do that." He lifted his shoulders, stretched his hands in a large shrug. Was he worth doing that? Probably not. It had been his fear anyway. That if he admitted the problem, she would shove him away. It seemed as though he was right. "Look, ah, maybe... I don't know. I won't bother you for a little while." He raised his hands and started to back off. To give her space. Then, switched languages to Khalish. He was still not great at it, but then again, neither was he at English. "I'm sorry I got broken." The worst part was he used a word for "broken" that was closer to an engine part than it was any sort of organic physical weakness.