e_delmar | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's nice on Shadow, quiet. Work's good, even if he ain't sleeping much.

But not sleeping's better'n what happens when he sleeps.

He don't need anything more'n what he's got there, but sometimes when he stares at the ceiling - or the night sky - he can't help but think about a thing or two left behind that maybe he don't want got rid of.

So it could be that it's late one night (on Shadow, anyway, who ever knows how times match up) Ennis sneaks into the bar, headed back towards his (their) room.

He's quick, and he's quiet, but could be you could catch him.

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Mary eyes him.

"You said it was in space. You did not say it was a planet," she complains.

Pause; then, curiously, remembering a word she'd heard from a space pilot she'd talked to once: "Has it been terra-formed?"

She'd heard it; could be he has, too. He ain't too good with words, though.

" . . . maybe."

A little patronizingly: "That means it has been made like Earth. There is nothing left that used to be there before."

Defensively.

"Don't know."

"I met someone that said that all the planets were like that where he was," Mary informs Ennis, "but I do not know if that is really true of everywhere or not."

She frowns.

"I do not know if it is good, though - if there were creatures and growing things there already."

Begrudgingly,

"Might be. don't know if there were."

"If they are not there now," Mary says, wisely, "that means it likely was terra-formed. If there are only horses and things."

"Guess. Maybe you should ask her."

"I do not know her."

Not that this usually stops Mary. However.

"Nice old lady."

For Ennis, this seems like enough of a description.

Mary frowns.

"I do not know any old ladies.

I know an old man but he is not here."

Then that helps things!

"You see one, ask her."

"That is silly," Mary protests, a little indignantly.

"Only because I do not know any old ladies does not mean there many not be several."

Ennis only shrugs.

"I should like to know everything about where I was living," Mary says, a little disgruntled.

"If you do not know about it there might be ghosts or anything."

His look clearly says "So?"

Mary stares at him.

She does not comprehend this indifference.

"- well, one would like to be prepared, I should think."

"Deal with it when I come to it."

"You might not be able to," Mary points out, "if you are not prepared."

"Maybe."

Mary places her hands on her hips.

Rather incredulously: "Do you not care?"

His look says not especially.

"That is stupid," Mary announces.

"Even when I did not care about anything much I cared what happened to me - I could not do much about it because the grown-ups could make me do things, but I cared."

Mary is ignoring the vast effort she expended in pretending not to care, for the moment. She is Older and Wiser now!

Ennis could take some lessons from Mary.

. . . too bad he won't.

He nods, though, and listens.

Mary is very wise. Just ask . . . well, Mary.

"If you do not care about things," she adds, sagely, "everything is only boring and dull - and there is not much point."