[Huh. He glances at the dog — Rock. Old huffy creature, not particularly playful but quiet and observant and healing. To know your value, is that it? Max isn't sure at all what his value is. He supposes he's good at fixing things. Piloting a shuttle. But it's a role others could easily fill, if he were gone. At the very least, he can see how something is valued, even if you can replace it. But that's what his life has been, his core way of moving along: you don't need me anymore. Here in the Fleet, he doesn't have some big feat to accomplish. There's no base under siege, or people fleeing from a violent oppressor. There aren't kids who want to find another, more wonderful world that he can help them to.
Previsions are stocked. His small tasks are relatively in order... He can either provide transport, or give someone blood. But what is he thinking? He should just be worried about what he can do for himself. Survival is key, the basic element. He has to remind himself that he's merely bunked in the same area. Forced, to a degree. He wouldn't be here if he had a choice, right? He doesn't like to think about it too much. He could leave whenever he'd like, if not for the Atroma.
Right?
But what's in it for Peggy? To apply value to Max? He supposes his survival skills, what little is sane and logical and useful. Keeping knowledge close is smart, and he has no doubts about Peggy's intelligence. It's no wonder she puts effort towards talking to him, even as he is. Max can see the potential.
He does not at all consider any possibly that Peggy genuinely enjoys his company.
That's never been a consideration for anyone in his life.]
Hmm... Then my value today is keeping injured crew restful.
[He motions to her and the dog, without thinking much about the gesture.]
no subject
Previsions are stocked. His small tasks are relatively in order... He can either provide transport, or give someone blood. But what is he thinking? He should just be worried about what he can do for himself. Survival is key, the basic element. He has to remind himself that he's merely bunked in the same area. Forced, to a degree. He wouldn't be here if he had a choice, right? He doesn't like to think about it too much. He could leave whenever he'd like, if not for the Atroma.
Right?
But what's in it for Peggy? To apply value to Max? He supposes his survival skills, what little is sane and logical and useful. Keeping knowledge close is smart, and he has no doubts about Peggy's intelligence. It's no wonder she puts effort towards talking to him, even as he is. Max can see the potential.
He does not at all consider any possibly that Peggy genuinely enjoys his company.
That's never been a consideration for anyone in his life.]
Hmm... Then my value today is keeping injured crew restful.
[He motions to her and the dog, without thinking much about the gesture.]