ataraxionlogs | oo3. partially closed.

[ There's a twitch at the corner of Rick's mouth, crooked humour, the prod doing what it intended from what he could see of Carl's expression out the corner of his eye. He remembers his son's cynicism, upon their shift towards a more peaceful, nurturing existence in the prison. The shift from hunter-gather to farmer was mankind's first step towards civilisation, after all.

It doesn't apply here, now.

He makes an inquiring sound, as opposed to words, focusing as he handles the press with care. ]

[Safe to say, he's not seeing the humor in this. Even with the twitch at the corner of Rick's mouth, it goes largely unrecognized due to him already thinking about what he's going to say before saying it. Whatever he needs to sound convincing because joining agriculture is the last thing he wants. In fact, it'd feel like a step backwards.

And so he waits for his dad to say something or give him some sort of cue, not hesitating very much to finally say what he's been meaning to for a while when given the inquiring hum.]

So I was thinking maybe joining the gunnery crew, like you. I would be more help there.

That right.

[ The lack of surprise Rick feels is profound.

And resigned, partially, which could possibly be read in his silence, but so too can concentration. He takes the repacked bullet into hand, running his thumb over it, before he tosses it to Carl to let him take a look. Good as new? asks an inquiring raise of his eyebrows.

Rick focuses on starting another. ]

Well, you know it's not up to me. They got people who make those kinds of decisions.

[He's not expecting his dad to be surprised, but the small reaction he gets feels somewhat like the early brush offs at the prison, which deep down is starting to make him concerned with asking at the wrong time. Because even after the whole "you're a man" speech back home, it's tricky to tell where his dad is at. The unknown timeline stuff to him doesn't help either.

Catching the bullet tossed to him though, he looks it over briefly. It's fine as far as he can tell so he gives a nod to the inquiring look on him before setting it down carefully on the make shift work area in the room. And. Moving straight back on point, he already knows there's other people or that Jax person that makes the decisions, but wants to make sure his dad is fine with it first. So, admitting as much here. In lesser detail.]

I know... But you'd okay with it if I did?

[ It's true -- Rick had called Carl a man, he remembers that recently, and being here doesn't negate it, nor does all that happened after take away from it. But it, this place, does change it. The terrain is different, the threats are different, and he's not necessarily looking at his son and speculating if he's going to get through the apocalypse if Rick slips away. But maybe he should, anyway, even here. He remembers Daryl slipping away, ghosting off before one jump and into the next.

Still. There's a lot of learning to get done. ]

Yeah.

[ Which is why he says yeah, making eye contact for a moment. ]

It's not busy, 'cept for this kind of thing. But it's access. It's somewhere to be. And they're not interested in running this place.

[Carl sort of figured the gunnery crew was mostly mundane (or something like what they were doing now) anyway, but so was the rest of the ship. Why he really cared about joining them though was to have something to do that didn't make him forget what he knew about surviving, even if it meant all he had to do all day was tuning or fixing up weapons.

And given the apparent choices, honestly, it was definitely better than farming. So there's already a small smile growing on his face for when he hears it. The one simple word of approval, followed by what he already figured before. And he's happy he can go ahead with what he wants now, but also wants to be as reassuring as he can be about knowing what he's getting into first...]

Yeah, I know. But somewhere to be is better than sitting around all day. [He doesn't mean here, right now necessarily because this is quality bonding time, but he does mean in general when its less bonding and more boring sitting around.]

And... besides I don't wanna wait for something bad to happen. With the monsters in the halls and all. [The ones he hasn't seen yet, but is pretty convinced he heard with all that groaning and noise in the halls before.] So I figured I should join 'em anyways. Help out.

[ Hmmn sounds roughly agreeable, Rick pulling out a chair to sit as he works, flicking a glance upwards and across.

The silence that passes isn't awkward, on Rick's part, just thoughtful.

Then; ]

You met 'em? Teller, Anderson.

[And following the example before him, he pulls out a chair and sits down after a second's hesitation. He got the approval he wanted, so he spends the next seconds or moments of silence between them with a light smile and his eyes continuing to watch the process-

Only to look up again with the question tossed over his way.]

Huh, no. [An instinctive reply for being either caught of guard by the question or unable recognize one of those name at first, before pausing and thinking about it. Either way, lying is still something he doesn't like to do, and he guesses admitting he did a little poking around ain't going to hurt any, so he follows up with:]

Not in person. But I talked to the Teller guy before.

Cassandra Anderson can read minds.

[ He puts it other there with a frank tone, rather than a particularly impressed one. Not even very scared. Rick doesn't have a lot to hide, even here, even knowing the things he's done.

But it's one of those things that's good to know. Especially seeing as she doesn't volunteer the information right away. ]

She seems to help run it under Teller. They seem alright.

[ Besides one of them being, you know, a psychic. ]

Huh. For real?

[His surprise is drawn out with the slight turn of subject, even if he's seen and learned of other things around the ship that he would never in his lifetime have believed. It's just that psychics sounded more intrusive and he knew what they could do from comic books so for him there's immediate worry for what she could see in his mind.

Which was. Everything, most likely. His deepest and recent sense of loss, the mistakes he's made that he sometimes still thought about, and everything really that he only ever wanted share with those he was closest to. And some of it he wasn't ready to share, least of all with his dad. He didn't want to be a disappointment by telling him some of his realer thoughts yet.

So if it was true, and he didn't hold back on believing it for even a second, then she was actually one such person he thought he was fine not meeting anytime soon. Even if she was "alright." And his body language tenses, not exactly hiding that's maybe something along the lines of what he's thinking either.]

I bet she's seen stranger. Up here.

[ Not that the particulars of their world is what Carl wants to keep a secret, Rick knows, even if he doesn't know for sure what it is Carl might guard. He can imagine. He can guess.

It occurs to him then that there's stuff they should talk about, not just the day to day, not just how to repack a casing, not just the rules and regulations of this place. But the things they've left behind. The things that have happened.

But Judith is a name that sits like a rock on his words. Heavy, cold, pinning down his tongue.

Not yet. ]

Yeah, [ he says, instead. ] I'm not wild about it either. But she keeps to herself.

[Even so, it's not much reassurance, now that is mind is thinking about all this.

After all, he still remembers his dad saying "don't look back" that day not so long ago, and ever since has been taking it all in a sense of deeper ways and meanings. For the most part attempting to keep his grief bottled up or finding somewhere to be by himself for a while when he can't.

The point is they haven't talk about it. Not the prison, Judith, or the rest of their people, dead or possibly alive. So nothing about sharing with a psychic first was his idea of good.

And he's not sure of how to share with his dad yet, so for now, he bottles it in some more, lowering his head to hide the distraught thoughts that may have played on his features a second ago, and using the brim of his hat for cover, momentarily.]

I'm not worried about that... [ which is more something he tells himself to pull himself together, obviously lying more to himself, and looking back up again. ] I was just surprised. There's just a lot of strange things here. I don't know if I can get used to it.

oo3. partially closed.

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