For a moment he is without the ability to speak. Midvalley's word swim around him like the soft waves before a burning storm. The man looks so...
"Beautiful," comes from his vocoder before he can reign in the impulse. "Chaos help me, but..."
He stops himself. It is not becoming of a first mate to succumb into romantic declarations of the obvious. What would it look like for the crew, him quoting old love songs on bended knee?
Instead Jazz shakes his head. It is a miniscule move, so small that it can be more imagined that sensed. He smiles, his mind now back on the right track.
"Everything can be turned into something practical. One just needs to have an open mind."