Tact isn't really Andyr's strong suit, nor is quiet conversation. It's absent commentary he's making, as he sits at a table with an empty lunch tray in front of him, a plastic straw he's gnawing on between his teeth, and a friend or two nearby. Maybe Alva or Val, maybe Nick, Levi or Adrien. Regardless, he's pushing up from his seat, after a moment or so longer of unmasked staring, and pacing his way over to sit across from Pierce, arms folded on the table top.
Where he's from, most normal humans don't tend to live past sixty anymore (not naturally, anyway), and any that get up to forty typically have extensive surgeries done. Most of Andyr's day to day life had been surrounded by people somewhere between seventeen and thirty-five, at least as far as one could guess on looks alone. Even his father hadn't been terribly old when he'd passed. Suffice to say, curiosity is eating at him. So much of what he's seen on the ship has been such a far cry from everything he knows, and while Andyr has kept to his suspicion and wariness, it isn't without investigation. Which is what he'll call this.
"Do you have grandkids?" He's asking, eventually, squinting at the man some, like he's expecting a mask to fall off or something. He'd never met his own, though had trinkets and momentos gifted to him, through his parents. None of which he has anymore, but the memories there, and the novelty of the concept of 'grandparents' has always seemed sort of quaint to him.
C
Tact isn't really Andyr's strong suit, nor is quiet conversation. It's absent commentary he's making, as he sits at a table with an empty lunch tray in front of him, a plastic straw he's gnawing on between his teeth, and a friend or two nearby. Maybe Alva or Val, maybe Nick, Levi or Adrien. Regardless, he's pushing up from his seat, after a moment or so longer of unmasked staring, and pacing his way over to sit across from Pierce, arms folded on the table top.
Where he's from, most normal humans don't tend to live past sixty anymore (not naturally, anyway), and any that get up to forty typically have extensive surgeries done. Most of Andyr's day to day life had been surrounded by people somewhere between seventeen and thirty-five, at least as far as one could guess on looks alone. Even his father hadn't been terribly old when he'd passed. Suffice to say, curiosity is eating at him. So much of what he's seen on the ship has been such a far cry from everything he knows, and while Andyr has kept to his suspicion and wariness, it isn't without investigation. Which is what he'll call this.
"Do you have grandkids?" He's asking, eventually, squinting at the man some, like he's expecting a mask to fall off or something. He'd never met his own, though had trinkets and momentos gifted to him, through his parents. None of which he has anymore, but the memories there, and the novelty of the concept of 'grandparents' has always seemed sort of quaint to him.