[There's a part of him that wonders if Annie will take it upon herself to read up on starfish, if she'll do some research and see what Will left out that may also apply, other than regeneration. He wonders if she'll come across it and find his bringing them up at all gauche—or worse yet, meant to be an insult. It's certainly not, but he's not about to get into more than the very basic details. Not going to tell her about the times when people got sick of starfish and thought they could kill them only to find out they were making them stronger, when torture was seen more as pest prevention, perhaps, than anything else.
And how they all flipped humanity an ungodly amount of extra middle arm/fingers before carrying on being their starry selves.
It is too close to a Hobbs thought to consider making something that honors out of them, honors the shark that lost its teeth and Annie for whatever her part in getting them might have been. He knows it as it passes through his head, as he reaches back out to turn one over his fingers again, as he considers it. He could make a display or shove them in a box for later as much as he could make anything decorative out of it. He could throw them away, but here he is, idly wondering what sort of wire and wrapping and colors would look best on her, even if that tooth ends up hidden by her choice of clothing.]
There's plenty here to make something. [And none of them fossilized in even the simplest of ways, making it more difficult.] I'll give you a call whenever I get done with them.
[He could sell them, too. There are quite a few people who would definitely enjoy a collection of shark teeth straight out the shark, but these are not going to be on any shareable list, on any menu. Hobbs shared his honors with his family, as far as Will can gather. Will's family, his crew from home, is a dysfunctional mess that frequently does what they can to, really, cannibalize each other, and he knows it. He takes part in it. He sinks and wallows in their bloody mire, shoves the disabled under a metaphorical bus knowing the abuse suffered already. Knowing he played a part in it. The mess of Baltimore seems to not be uncommon, though in different ways. Annie's own gathering here in this world has made plenty of their issues known, publicly and loudly.
There won't be any sharing with family, either—at least, not until Annie has had her say in it.]
Was that it?
[Almost it—unseen, his other hand tucked between him and the counter, Gunther takes the quiet snap cue for what it means: you can cross the line. Better behaved this time, there won't be any jumping. There will, however, be a short tail wagging excitedly as he comes around the counter to sniff and say hello, his beard a shaking mess.]
no subject
And how they all flipped humanity an ungodly amount of extra middle arm/fingers before carrying on being their starry selves.
It is too close to a Hobbs thought to consider making something that honors out of them, honors the shark that lost its teeth and Annie for whatever her part in getting them might have been. He knows it as it passes through his head, as he reaches back out to turn one over his fingers again, as he considers it. He could make a display or shove them in a box for later as much as he could make anything decorative out of it. He could throw them away, but here he is, idly wondering what sort of wire and wrapping and colors would look best on her, even if that tooth ends up hidden by her choice of clothing.]
There's plenty here to make something. [And none of them fossilized in even the simplest of ways, making it more difficult.] I'll give you a call whenever I get done with them.
[He could sell them, too. There are quite a few people who would definitely enjoy a collection of shark teeth straight out the shark, but these are not going to be on any shareable list, on any menu. Hobbs shared his honors with his family, as far as Will can gather. Will's family, his crew from home, is a dysfunctional mess that frequently does what they can to, really, cannibalize each other, and he knows it. He takes part in it. He sinks and wallows in their bloody mire, shoves the disabled under a metaphorical bus knowing the abuse suffered already. Knowing he played a part in it. The mess of Baltimore seems to not be uncommon, though in different ways. Annie's own gathering here in this world has made plenty of their issues known, publicly and loudly.
There won't be any sharing with family, either—at least, not until Annie has had her say in it.]
Was that it?
[Almost it—unseen, his other hand tucked between him and the counter, Gunther takes the quiet snap cue for what it means: you can cross the line. Better behaved this time, there won't be any jumping. There will, however, be a short tail wagging excitedly as he comes around the counter to sniff and say hello, his beard a shaking mess.]