(no subject)
In the rec room, a slightly sunburned Babe Heffron carefully lines up a shot on the pool table with his pool cue and puts another ball into the corner pocket. It plucks into place as it always does. Babe's good at pool, but not as good as other people, one of whom isn't here anymore. Doing this now feels pretty damn flat. It ain't like he's got nobody. There's Eden, of course, and there's Winters and, shit, even Nixon, but it's not really the same, is it?
There's a renewed sense of not belonging, like he's just landed here, only now with a fiance and frankly, he's in need of a damn hair cut. It's like everyone's a stranger who'll be here one day and be gone the next, just like they never did step foot on the sand. Getting to know people could be good for him, he guesses, and maybe he shouldn't keep his distance so much since he's never been one to be a stranger. The list of people left here that he really knows is growing shorter and shorter, and it seems to be month by month. It's not just himself he's worried for, either.
It's said that it's best not to think about these things -- best not to think about that, yeah?. Yeah, sure, but that's like telling someone not to think about a limb being blown off or something. Babe tries, though, even though it's to no avail and he knows it. With pursed lips, he lines up another shot, this one the purple seven. He tries for the center pocket and misses.
[ooc: Despite how it looks, it's always a good time to meet him.]
There's a renewed sense of not belonging, like he's just landed here, only now with a fiance and frankly, he's in need of a damn hair cut. It's like everyone's a stranger who'll be here one day and be gone the next, just like they never did step foot on the sand. Getting to know people could be good for him, he guesses, and maybe he shouldn't keep his distance so much since he's never been one to be a stranger. The list of people left here that he really knows is growing shorter and shorter, and it seems to be month by month. It's not just himself he's worried for, either.
It's said that it's best not to think about these things -- best not to think about that, yeah?. Yeah, sure, but that's like telling someone not to think about a limb being blown off or something. Babe tries, though, even though it's to no avail and he knows it. With pursed lips, he lines up another shot, this one the purple seven. He tries for the center pocket and misses.
[ooc: Despite how it looks, it's always a good time to meet him.]