( There's a gravitational pull to authority that propels Shi Qingxuan immediately and gratefully within a speaker's orbit. It's not the words that ease him, nor their reason, but — and his arms cross over his chest, as he wilts down into a conversational form — the man's certitude.
A wet deck, dangers that stormed but never struck him, the grievous cacophony of sound behind him. He's tired, too tired. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, then uttering: )
What's the POINT of all this, anyway? Aha... if we're not A LEARNED CREW, aren't we just fumbling to the BEST of our abilities and BEING INCONVENIENT?
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A wet deck, dangers that stormed but never struck him, the grievous cacophony of sound behind him. He's tired, too tired. Wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, then uttering: )
What's the POINT of all this, anyway? Aha... if we're not A LEARNED CREW, aren't we just fumbling to the BEST of our abilities and BEING INCONVENIENT?