3nanashi | (no subject)

Shuttle rides are boring. This is a fact of life; every traveler who's ever been on an inter-colony or atmo-breaking trip knows this. But it is, perhaps, especially boring when you know exactly what this engine can do (not as much as many machines, but a lot more than this commercial pilot is asking of it) and which trajectories it could take to L4 (several, of which this is the most staid that has any speed at all). Trowa keeps himself occupied with his computer, and tries not to spend too much time mentally calculating alternative routes and contingency plans for various attacks that will never come. He doesn't expect them, but it's something to do. And it never hurts to be prepared.

When they dock, he waits through the excessively slow cross-check -- double-checks and triple-checks are how you keep your equipment in order and yourself alive, but this crew's clearly never done this under fire -- and then slings his duffel bag over his shoulder and files dutifully off the shuttle with the other passengers. Time for the Immigration And Visitor Registration paperwork. Trowa tells them the truth, nowadays, although occasionally in rather targeted wording.

All that's ahead after that is a much shorter (and, privately, less irritating) trip by ground transport to the rich district of this colony. He'll call Quatre when he's close.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Answering isn't really necessary.

But: "Tesbah `ala kher."

(Unnecessary words are sometimes a gesture, and sometimes a joke. Unnecessary words in a language Trowa's still learning, doubly so.)

Trowa doesn't plan to read for too long. This may have more to do with the hour than a lack of interest in the book -- novels may be boring except for ulterior motives, but practicing Arabic is not -- but it's still true.

So he doesn't mind settling into place with the book in one hand, and the other hand resting lightly over Quatre's.

(It'll fall away in time -- when Trowa dozes off, if nothing else. But Quatre will start cuddling closer as soon as he's asleep, so that evens out.)

Quatre's breath huffs against the pillow in not-quite laughter, and he smiles.

"Some day I'll learn Japanese," he threatens, fond and faint.

"Oyasumi," Trowa supplies blandly, and without looking up from the page.

Also without expectation that Quatre will remember this language lesson, but it's clearly the logical reply.

Quatre would accuse him of being a show-off, but he's not that cognizant currently, so he just makes a faint agreeing noise to the sound of Trowa's voice. He hasn't opened his eyes for this whole exchange.

He drifts off to sleep.

Trowa turns a page.