Yoshimi's eyes fly wide, because he had just switched from Not Talking to Talking so quickly it made her head spin, especially since the words being thrown at her (or the ceiling, more accurately) are laced with venom and... desperation. And sadness that she doubts he'll willingly admit to.
She lets silence fall for a few seconds as she faceplants into the mattress, breathing and trying to convince herself that glaring at him and pointing out that every other person on this ship is feeling the exact same way will not help in any way. In fact, that would probably a) make him storm out, b) make him hit her, or c) make him dump her, none of which were favorable options, because they would probably all happen (not in that order), knowing her luck.
By the time she looks at him again, there is a frown infused with a great deal of sympathy and real genuine concern! on her face, and she watches him quietly before tugging one of his hands out of hair, holding it between both of hers, eyes shifting to their hands so she doesn't have to look at his face as she points out a truth that he may or may not feel like having brought to his attention at the moment, because odds are that he just kind of wants to bash Stacy aimlessly for being guilty by association for possibly the greatest loss he has known.
"Were you... on the ship when Stacy finally got clearance to tell us what was going on? I don't know, I didn't know you yet, so maybe you were, but all I can think about is the months and months of not knowing why we were here. I didn't have it half as bad as everyone else on-ship, because, you know, I didn't really lose anyone when I came here--didn't have anyone to begin with, so I wasn't all that torn up about not having to rip apart rogue robots at every turning, but you know me: I'm not stupid, and I saw how much all of these people were hurting with all the not knowing, and all the aimless attempts to escape, so when we found out that all of our universe had been burned to the ground, what I sensed from all of these people, more than the pain, was the relief, because we all finally knew why we were here. Why we are here, still, right now: To fight the bastards that ruined our lives. And maybe, just maybe we can reverse it. Maybe we can turn it around, bring everything back, because this is alien technology we're dealing with, and it may very well include that option in its instruction manual." She pauses, rubbing at the skin between his thumb and forefinger absently, eyes fixing on his face. "Dying with dignity wouldn't have gotten you anywhere, Dustin. You would've just... died, with no hope of reversing any of this. Everything you know would have burned, and you wouldn't have been able to stop it, because you'd just be dead like everyone else, and all of your life would be gone. Where's the point in that? Now at least you can try to fix it, you know? It may not work, but... when has that ever stopped anyone from trying?"
The pink-haired woman is highly unaware of the face that her speech of several seconds ago was the most she has spoken since she was sixteen.
no subject
She lets silence fall for a few seconds as she faceplants into the mattress, breathing and trying to convince herself that glaring at him and pointing out that every other person on this ship is feeling the exact same way will not help in any way. In fact, that would probably a) make him storm out, b) make him hit her, or c) make him dump her, none of which were favorable options, because they would probably all happen (not in that order), knowing her luck.
By the time she looks at him again, there is a frown infused with a great deal of sympathy and real genuine concern! on her face, and she watches him quietly before tugging one of his hands out of hair, holding it between both of hers, eyes shifting to their hands so she doesn't have to look at his face as she points out a truth that he may or may not feel like having brought to his attention at the moment, because odds are that he just kind of wants to bash Stacy aimlessly for being guilty by association for possibly the greatest loss he has known.
"Were you... on the ship when Stacy finally got clearance to tell us what was going on? I don't know, I didn't know you yet, so maybe you were, but all I can think about is the months and months of not knowing why we were here. I didn't have it half as bad as everyone else on-ship, because, you know, I didn't really lose anyone when I came here--didn't have anyone to begin with, so I wasn't all that torn up about not having to rip apart rogue robots at every turning, but you know me: I'm not stupid, and I saw how much all of these people were hurting with all the not knowing, and all the aimless attempts to escape, so when we found out that all of our universe had been burned to the ground, what I sensed from all of these people, more than the pain, was the relief, because we all finally knew why we were here. Why we are here, still, right now: To fight the bastards that ruined our lives. And maybe, just maybe we can reverse it. Maybe we can turn it around, bring everything back, because this is alien technology we're dealing with, and it may very well include that option in its instruction manual." She pauses, rubbing at the skin between his thumb and forefinger absently, eyes fixing on his face. "Dying with dignity wouldn't have gotten you anywhere, Dustin. You would've just... died, with no hope of reversing any of this. Everything you know would have burned, and you wouldn't have been able to stop it, because you'd just be dead like everyone else, and all of your life would be gone. Where's the point in that? Now at least you can try to fix it, you know? It may not work, but... when has that ever stopped anyone from trying?"
The pink-haired woman is highly unaware of the face that her speech of several seconds ago was the most she has spoken since she was sixteen.