Dylan lets out a soft laugh, lifting one hand to scratch at his forehead.
"I'm not gonna be the one to say it."
To be honest, his sense of what sounds in her words, daft, is a little odd. Comes of spending the past year and a half traveling the Three Galaxies explaining that he's the last survivor of the civilization that fell three hundred years ago trying to rebuild it from the ruins. He's been laughed at, mocked, dismissed, called an anachronism, a relic, irrelevant and doomed to failure in a world that's no longer his.
She sounds sincere, and he's not going to judge her until he's heard her out. Not again.
Opposite Rose, Dylan slips into a seat, leaning forward with his forearms on the table and rolling his shoulders back.
(It's good to sit. It's been a hell of a day and ...
Well. He won't admit it to anyone, not even Trance, his medic, or Andromeda when she does the scans for his physicals, but he's not as young as he was. 303 years in a black hole notwithstanding.)
"So," he says, gentle amusement in his voice, "you and this friend of yours, you travel around in a spaceship that's disguised as a box." That much ... is unlike any sort of ship he knows. The closest he can think of is the FMS, but its purpose is to make a ship seem bigger than it is, not the other way around.
He lifts his eyebrows, a little impressed at the technology she's describing.
"That's a pretty impressive bit of circuitry, stuck or not."
no subject
"I'm not gonna be the one to say it."
To be honest, his sense of what sounds in her words, daft, is a little odd. Comes of spending the past year and a half traveling the Three Galaxies explaining that he's the last survivor of the civilization that fell three hundred years ago trying to rebuild it from the ruins. He's been laughed at, mocked, dismissed, called an anachronism, a relic, irrelevant and doomed to failure in a world that's no longer his.
She sounds sincere, and he's not going to judge her until he's heard her out. Not again.
Opposite Rose, Dylan slips into a seat, leaning forward with his forearms on the table and rolling his shoulders back.
(It's good to sit. It's been a hell of a day and ...
Well. He won't admit it to anyone, not even Trance, his medic, or Andromeda when she does the scans for his physicals, but he's not as young as he was. 303 years in a black hole notwithstanding.)
"So," he says, gentle amusement in his voice, "you and this friend of yours, you travel around in a spaceship that's disguised as a box." That much ... is unlike any sort of ship he knows. The closest he can think of is the FMS, but its purpose is to make a ship seem bigger than it is, not the other way around.
He lifts his eyebrows, a little impressed at the technology she's describing.
"That's a pretty impressive bit of circuitry, stuck or not."