[ The room is predictably Spartan, but with those few characteristically emblematic flourishes tucked between the pragmatism.
He takes the liberty of pulling up a chair for himself, because they're both past the juncture of having to be polite and asking for permission. If there's still some degree of awkwardness, it's mostly because Venom is still adjusting to the idea that Kaz has absolved him of... whatever he needed to be absolved of. His XO may have had several months' worth in space to come to terms with some of their faulty cogs, but Venom is still working through them, seeing where the teeth don't align.
Regardless, he takes those photos from a gloved hand and sifts through them. Soldiers lounging on baked sand, a blurry shot of homemade gallo pinto, a black blob that was most likely intended to be a still shot of an antsy cat.
He sees the memories in double vision, rendered from two different angles. It doesn't detract from the quiet wave of fondness that he still nurses, somewhere in the pit of his stomach; the ashes of an angel of peace, swimming in the bottom of his subconscious.
He doesn't look up from the sepia-burnt snapshots between his fingers, but he does manage to make a request. ]
—'Wild Horses'.
[ The Stones, a song pre-coma. He's sure Kaz will appreciate that more than a song he's come to know after he's come to. ]
no subject
He takes the liberty of pulling up a chair for himself, because they're both past the juncture of having to be polite and asking for permission. If there's still some degree of awkwardness, it's mostly because Venom is still adjusting to the idea that Kaz has absolved him of... whatever he needed to be absolved of. His XO may have had several months' worth in space to come to terms with some of their faulty cogs, but Venom is still working through them, seeing where the teeth don't align.
Regardless, he takes those photos from a gloved hand and sifts through them. Soldiers lounging on baked sand, a blurry shot of homemade gallo pinto, a black blob that was most likely intended to be a still shot of an antsy cat.
He sees the memories in double vision, rendered from two different angles. It doesn't detract from the quiet wave of fondness that he still nurses, somewhere in the pit of his stomach; the ashes of an angel of peace, swimming in the bottom of his subconscious.
He doesn't look up from the sepia-burnt snapshots between his fingers, but he does manage to make a request. ]
—'Wild Horses'.
[ The Stones, a song pre-coma. He's sure Kaz will appreciate that more than a song he's come to know after he's come to. ]