[ Quiet, right. He could do quiet. He had spent entire sweeps with the only sound to ever come out of him being the hoarse screams torn from his throat when the battleship shifted into a high power state. And he could focus on a mathematical paradox. An infinite surface area enclosing a finite volume. Breathe. Focus.
He doesn't do it entirely consciously, but he curls in even closer as long moments pass.
no subject
He doesn't do it entirely consciously, but he curls in even closer as long moments pass.
And it occurs to him... ]
I don't want thith...