[ Right — it occurs to Amos to remember that Sebastian is old. Or at least from centuries before him; of course if he'd been dealing with low-tech guns, he probably wouldn't know anything about living in space. Though he was never a history buff, and it's easy for things to get muddled, lost, conflated in the centuries-wide gap between them— anyway.
Sebastian's wonderment feels almost familiar, like an approach he might've taken before he ever made it up the well. Less surprise that humanity managed to make it up that far; more that old, old memory of simply wanting to be there. And then he'd gotten there, and it had become daily life, dull and unremarkable. ]
It was quiet.
[ His answer is a simple one, expression open and honest as he meets Sebastian's eyes head on. Not like he has a problem with loud and bustling, not like he can't blend right in on Springstar's streets, but... ]
There ain't a lot up there. I mean that literally. There's a fuckton of stars, but they're lightyears apart. Far enough that as a regular human, you'd probably only ever be in the proximity of one star your entire life. [ To say nothing of otherworldly pathways that drastically cut down on travel time — but that was still a relatively new phenomenon after the universe Amos had come from died, so, eh, not exactly worth getting into. ] And in between all of 'em is nothing, just darkness that'll swallow you up if you're not careful. If you don't want to be found, nobody would ever find you. Pretty much a mathematical impossibility.
[ He turns to look up at the bartender as his second shot is poured; thanks them, but doesn't drink his quite yet. His hand's wrapped around the shot glass, but his eyes are back on Sebastian's. ]
Turns out all I ever really wanted was to be with my people, and up there, that was pretty easy. Didn't have to be a whole thing. Just that you're there, you got each other, you don't really need anything or anyone else.
[ Amos blinks, then. Shrugs it off, and throws back his second tequila shot. He's probably good to stop there for now — unless Sebastian wants more, that is. He can always deal with any hangovers later. ]
no subject
Sebastian's wonderment feels almost familiar, like an approach he might've taken before he ever made it up the well. Less surprise that humanity managed to make it up that far; more that old, old memory of simply wanting to be there. And then he'd gotten there, and it had become daily life, dull and unremarkable. ]
It was quiet.
[ His answer is a simple one, expression open and honest as he meets Sebastian's eyes head on. Not like he has a problem with loud and bustling, not like he can't blend right in on Springstar's streets, but... ]
There ain't a lot up there. I mean that literally. There's a fuckton of stars, but they're lightyears apart. Far enough that as a regular human, you'd probably only ever be in the proximity of one star your entire life. [ To say nothing of otherworldly pathways that drastically cut down on travel time — but that was still a relatively new phenomenon after the universe Amos had come from died, so, eh, not exactly worth getting into. ] And in between all of 'em is nothing, just darkness that'll swallow you up if you're not careful. If you don't want to be found, nobody would ever find you. Pretty much a mathematical impossibility.
[ He turns to look up at the bartender as his second shot is poured; thanks them, but doesn't drink his quite yet. His hand's wrapped around the shot glass, but his eyes are back on Sebastian's. ]
Turns out all I ever really wanted was to be with my people, and up there, that was pretty easy. Didn't have to be a whole thing. Just that you're there, you got each other, you don't really need anything or anyone else.
[ Amos blinks, then. Shrugs it off, and throws back his second tequila shot. He's probably good to stop there for now — unless Sebastian wants more, that is. He can always deal with any hangovers later. ]