Re: The Stowaway/The Terror
Had he been confronted on his rudeness, at making noise where someone dared to sleep, he likely would have laughed first, harsh and braying, with both hands smacking his knobby knees beneath his coveralls. Did he care about rudeness? No! There were things going on in this world that didn't give a shit whether you were polite or not, and he was not the type that was going to be run over by the. No sir-ree bob.
The other thing? This kid was faking it. That yawn, the exorbitant show of it -- it was a line of bullshit that he could smell even through his mask. Beneath it, his eyes narrowed and had his face been visible, he surely would have been giving this kid here a shrewd look.
"I'm sure," George drawled, his sense of believability audible even through the hiss of air. And the -- the gall -- "Prepared is what I am. You think this is some kinda hoax, kid? Whole universe is just waitin' for you to close your eyes, find a little R&R, and then it will eat you right up. You can't trust people. Especially not governments; they're gonna set off a nuke one of these days and I'm not gonna be caught with my trousers down around my ankles, ya hear? I ain't. I'm ready. This is just --" he gestured, finger wagging to the entirety of the train, "A training ground. That's what this is. Someone's practice. Next thing you know gas is going to be coming through the vents and we'll all be out like lights, except not me. I don't trust this nonsense."