"Yeah, that sounds like Marco." He smiled, still keeping Bobby between them. "Rachel loved doing things like that. I think she thought Sara was a doll when they brought her home. Used to help her mom pick outfits when she was tiny."

Bobby was important. The dog's tolerance had helped him through a lot of things on the ship, had soaked up a lot of pain he otherwise had no outlet for.

"Yeah, me too. Anything is better than slop, though."

He shrank further at the look, knowing it meant he was reacting wrong, but only able to think that he was doing it wrong and should stop trying.

"Yeah..." He swallowed, nervously stroking Bobby's fur, focusing in on the tactile sensation of petting the dog. "I mean, I can't fight or anything, and Sam's teaching me how to fly, but he's busy so I don't want to use up too much of his time. So gardening is pretty useful and it's something I can do and it's quiet and you don't have to do a lot with it but..." he trailed off, aware that he was babbling and unable to think of something to say to right the train of thoughts.

The worst thing he could think of was someone pointing out that he was different than before.