Brendan's brow shoots up--because of all the things he's expecting, it's not a musical. Documents. Research. Secrets. A diary, even. But a musical?
He glances at his own notebook--well, Ariadne's--and it hits him. Kurt is 100%, completely normal. For some reason, that bothers Brendan. That someone like that could get on the ship: just a teenager writing a musical, nothing more nothing less. Sure, he's stubborn, but a thick head won't get you anywhere on this ship.
He's not sure what exactly he's feeling. Brendan's either angry at the ship for bringing someone like this in, or jealous because he's not Kurt. It's difficult to discern right now, and it's part of the reason the curly haired detective falls into silence, just watching what Kurt does. Eventually, he speaks: feet moving off the table, sitting up a little more properly.
no subject
Brendan's brow shoots up--because of all the things he's expecting, it's not a musical. Documents. Research. Secrets. A diary, even. But a musical?
He glances at his own notebook--well, Ariadne's--and it hits him. Kurt is 100%, completely normal. For some reason, that bothers Brendan. That someone like that could get on the ship: just a teenager writing a musical, nothing more nothing less. Sure, he's stubborn, but a thick head won't get you anywhere on this ship.
He's not sure what exactly he's feeling. Brendan's either angry at the ship for bringing someone like this in, or jealous because he's not Kurt. It's difficult to discern right now, and it's part of the reason the curly haired detective falls into silence, just watching what Kurt does. Eventually, he speaks: feet moving off the table, sitting up a little more properly.
"So that's what you do back home? Write music?"