[ The laughter suits Richie better, even if it's accompanied by tears, plenty of bitter with the sweet. Akira does what he's best at—keeping his composure even if his wits feel ready to fly out of both ears at any time. (No call, no text, just Richie in the flesh. No script, no prompts, just talk.)
Reunions are enough to deal with on their own, throw in resurrection into the mix... they're both out of their league. He flashes him an apologetic smile, for the impromptu interruption; even if he's not entirely sorry. He doesn't join him on the floor just yet, hands mooring back into his pockets as he studies each of the unfamiliar faces in the pods.
(They're his friends from home, Akira assumes... Even locked in cold sleep, there's a sense of something unspoken between them—like Richie slots perfectly into the set, even seated where he is.) ]
Who is she?
[ The one with the red hair.
(Maybe it'll be easier for Richie to talk about home. Maybe not.) ]
no subject
Reunions are enough to deal with on their own, throw in resurrection into the mix... they're both out of their league. He flashes him an apologetic smile, for the impromptu interruption; even if he's not entirely sorry. He doesn't join him on the floor just yet, hands mooring back into his pockets as he studies each of the unfamiliar faces in the pods.
(They're his friends from home, Akira assumes... Even locked in cold sleep, there's a sense of something unspoken between them—like Richie slots perfectly into the set, even seated where he is.) ]
Who is she?
[ The one with the red hair.
(Maybe it'll be easier for Richie to talk about home. Maybe not.) ]