[For some reason he hadn't expected the room to look the way it does. Maybe because everything about Gene speaks of combat, from his clothes to the way he'll offer his lighter. But what else could it be? He thinks of where they'd slept in France when combat was slow, huddled together in dark shacks. He's glad for Gene that that's not the kind of place he has to spend his days, now, even if it takes a second for him to reconcile the two images of Gene.
He follows in, briefly touching the doorpost before stepping in. It feels a little off, too personal, to be here, but he tries to shrug it off. He realizes Gene's never seen his place, wonders how it'd feel for him to see that. Uncomfortable, private, probably.
He makes his way over to the desk, looking at the small pile. Seeing the album sends a nervous shiver down his spine, and he fumbles for a cigarette. Mention of the flood makes him smile a little, crookedly.]
Pretty strange, but nothin' too harmful. [You seemed like a good kid, he almost says. But he doesn't, because he doesn't know how Gene feels about the whole thing.]
spam
He follows in, briefly touching the doorpost before stepping in. It feels a little off, too personal, to be here, but he tries to shrug it off. He realizes Gene's never seen his place, wonders how it'd feel for him to see that. Uncomfortable, private, probably.
He makes his way over to the desk, looking at the small pile. Seeing the album sends a nervous shiver down his spine, and he fumbles for a cigarette. Mention of the flood makes him smile a little, crookedly.]
Pretty strange, but nothin' too harmful. [You seemed like a good kid, he almost says. But he doesn't, because he doesn't know how Gene feels about the whole thing.]