[Paul is certain of his own maturity, and that he could weather a little amusement at his expense unruffled. As such, there's no explaining the relief he feels at Viktor's acceptance of his words as seriously as he meant them, lightly held tension released.]
This place is what we make of it. [This world is not home, but neither is the place he would return to if he left; besides, it does no good to dwell.] And it's funny that you say that.
[A turn of phrase he's picked up here, his polyglot's ears always acquisitive. Like the piercings in them, it's a marker of his adaptation to this world, how fully he has enmeshed himself in it.]
That's a theory of mine as well. [He leans forward, knitting his fingers together.] That these things are meant to be catalysts. Not always constructed to achieve the desired results, but sometimes extremities of pressure produce remarkable acts, don't they?
Revelation. Transformation. Connection. There's something... [His gaze flicks up to the strange stars above, then returns.] There's something there. I can feel it.
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This place is what we make of it. [This world is not home, but neither is the place he would return to if he left; besides, it does no good to dwell.] And it's funny that you say that.
[A turn of phrase he's picked up here, his polyglot's ears always acquisitive. Like the piercings in them, it's a marker of his adaptation to this world, how fully he has enmeshed himself in it.]
That's a theory of mine as well. [He leans forward, knitting his fingers together.] That these things are meant to be catalysts. Not always constructed to achieve the desired results, but sometimes extremities of pressure produce remarkable acts, don't they?
Revelation. Transformation. Connection. There's something... [His gaze flicks up to the strange stars above, then returns.] There's something there. I can feel it.