[He wishes that he had the strength to keep on keeping, to say something snippy and maintain the facade, but for once he finds himself struggling to even come up with a half-hearted insult.]
No.
[He pulls a furry pelt over his head, nose wrinkling as the sudden incoming stench of animal hide wafts into his nostrils. The redhead steels himself as reality finally hits. Since the split with Eve, Rex has not allowed himself to cry, not with tears, as he's never really had the time. It's sucked, but there's been so many other changes to adjust to, and the opportunity to clown his new and old teammates has given him an outlet of sorts. He was single, but not alone, not so wholly and entirely unlovable that he would be without support.
But here, in just the few all too long and miserable days he's been in this place, he's failed to make a single friend, and the only two people who will tolerate his very existence are a naive greenhorn and a mysterious stranger, who really only wants him for some warm and hot-blooded company. He really had been trying to be better, and he'd sworn that he would, after that giant space monstrosity totaled half the team, but it's difficult to improve when you feel as though you've been stripped of everything that made you worth anything at all.
Rex inhales sharply, letting the tears fall over his cheeks and drip to either side of his face, not bothering to wipe them himself, and taking care not to sniffle. No more, no less, that's just it. Even if sobbing would relieve the pain, let it all wash out in an ugly and miserable disaster-]
I need to get some fucking sleep.
[He's done so much to prove to himself that they were wrong for abandoning him like that.
But what if they weren't? What if there's really nothing to love beneath the misery?
Rex has learned to weep in short bursts and in silence. He hopes that sleep really will come for him soon.]
no subject
No.
[He pulls a furry pelt over his head, nose wrinkling as the sudden incoming stench of animal hide wafts into his nostrils. The redhead steels himself as reality finally hits. Since the split with Eve, Rex has not allowed himself to cry, not with tears, as he's never really had the time. It's sucked, but there's been so many other changes to adjust to, and the opportunity to clown his new and old teammates has given him an outlet of sorts. He was single, but not alone, not so wholly and entirely unlovable that he would be without support.
But here, in just the few all too long and miserable days he's been in this place, he's failed to make a single friend, and the only two people who will tolerate his very existence are a naive greenhorn and a mysterious stranger, who really only wants him for some warm and hot-blooded company. He really had been trying to be better, and he'd sworn that he would, after that giant space monstrosity totaled half the team, but it's difficult to improve when you feel as though you've been stripped of everything that made you worth anything at all.
Rex inhales sharply, letting the tears fall over his cheeks and drip to either side of his face, not bothering to wipe them himself, and taking care not to sniffle. No more, no less, that's just it. Even if sobbing would relieve the pain, let it all wash out in an ugly and miserable disaster-]
I need to get some fucking sleep.
[He's done so much to prove to himself that they were wrong for abandoning him like that.
But what if they weren't? What if there's really nothing to love beneath the misery?
Rex has learned to weep in short bursts and in silence. He hopes that sleep really will come for him soon.]