Re: Third class, away from the dining room
A fairy. An honest to God fucking fairy. Had he gone out drinking last night? It'd been years since he went out and drank so much that he couldn't remember it the next day and those days he usually woke up with a black eye or a broken nose to remind him. No pain, no soreness in his face, his knuckles weren't busted like he'd been in a fight. No pain at sounds, no wincing at lights, no feeling like he'd eaten through a field of cotton -- no hang over. Was he still drunk?
Didn't feel like it, but there was a goddamn fairy. He wasn't where he was supposed to be (Dome, full of Rangers, Jaeger also MIA) and if this was a prank, it was more elaborate than he gave anyone credit for.
If monsters existed where he came from, why couldn't fairies? Clumsy, unable to fly fairies, by the look of it. Paranoid thoughts were overridden by the fact that she fell with a curse and -- he was never going to be mistaken for a gentleman. He could burp his ABC's, knew how to hit hard enough to bash the brains of a monster in, still scratched his nuts first thing in the morning before he'd even fallen out of bed and walked like his balls were too big for his thighs to touch.
Didn't mean he was going to not help her up, because fairies weren't Kaiju. (And if they were, they were so well and truly fucked that it wouldn't matter if he was stuck on this ship in the middle of no-one knew where.) "Hey," he said, crouching down, one rough hand reaching out to help her back up. The pilot paused before he touched her, hand moving as if he wasn't quite sure how or where to touch her at without damaging the translucent, shimmering wings. In the end, he simply offered his forearm out for her to grip. "You okay? And -- this whole damn place is creepy. You know where we are?"