[ It's a small smile. Carver might have missed it if he weren't watching Harold so closely. Small and brief but, Carver thinks, honest. And he wonders what that's like, too. To believe in other people like most of them aren't evil, selfish little monsters who'd turn on each other the second things got hard. Carver hasn't saved anyone in a long time, not even his own people. He realizes he hasn't tried. For a moment, he wonders what it would've been like if he had.
You doubting me, son? the commander's voice hisses abruptly. Carver stiffens, checking his corners instinctively. Nothing greets him but dust and the same shadows he helped conceal the cameras in.
His fingers twitch. This is blasphemy, he's pretty sure. ]
no subject
You doubting me, son? the commander's voice hisses abruptly. Carver stiffens, checking his corners instinctively. Nothing greets him but dust and the same shadows he helped conceal the cameras in.
His fingers twitch. This is blasphemy, he's pretty sure. ]
Sounds nice, [ Carver admits quietly. ] Believing that.