[ He keeps to himself, for the most part. It might be preferred, it might be because he cannot think about being another way. Means simple he's not doing much on Aquada. A cup of coffee in one hand on a bench, just watching people go by. Sips it slowly, and the mark on his hand shimmers just so in the light, before it goes back to being flat, dark, empty thing. The curving harsh lines that he think one day might eat him whole, but he accepted that far too long ago.
He's not quite sure what to make of the company, when it comes. Looks up with the cup to his mouth and swallows down on it before he nods. Elbow hooked behind him on the bench as he sits, one leg over the other, cross at the angles. ]
no subject
He's not quite sure what to make of the company, when it comes. Looks up with the cup to his mouth and swallows down on it before he nods. Elbow hooked behind him on the bench as he sits, one leg over the other, cross at the angles. ]
I am.