So here's the part where he does another sweep of their surroundings, and notes that, nope, it's pretty much all grass. Pretty much all just field as far as the eye can see. Rolling green-gold waves pocked with vibrant blooms that at least stand out enough to be avoided. Assuming that little batshit theory is correct.
There's not much reason to keep his helmet on; CT can breathe fine without it, and it's not filtering out whatever's making them lose their heads. He thumbs the seal with a faint pneumatic hiss.
She might not be able to see it, but let all parties be advised that Agent Washington has always and will continue to have helmet hair like a motherfucker.
He breathes in, long and deep. It takes a few lungfuls, but he picks up on something that's so quintessentially Earther that it makes something in his chest spool up. Nothing to do with the girl from Texas, because that was such an integral piece of her (the smell of eggs, the swarming of red-brown dust, hair that glinted under the full heat of the southern sun). Everything to do with an inner city west coast kid who can recognize the crisp littoral air cut with salt.
"I think we're near the ocean. It might not be a way out, but it's somewhere that isn't here."
no subject
So here's the part where he does another sweep of their surroundings, and notes that, nope, it's pretty much all grass. Pretty much all just field as far as the eye can see. Rolling green-gold waves pocked with vibrant blooms that at least stand out enough to be avoided. Assuming that little batshit theory is correct.
There's not much reason to keep his helmet on; CT can breathe fine without it, and it's not filtering out whatever's making them lose their heads. He thumbs the seal with a faint pneumatic hiss.
She might not be able to see it, but let all parties be advised that Agent Washington has always and will continue to have helmet hair like a motherfucker.
He breathes in, long and deep. It takes a few lungfuls, but he picks up on something that's so quintessentially Earther that it makes something in his chest spool up. Nothing to do with the girl from Texas, because that was such an integral piece of her (the smell of eggs, the swarming of red-brown dust, hair that glinted under the full heat of the southern sun). Everything to do with an inner city west coast kid who can recognize the crisp littoral air cut with salt.
"I think we're near the ocean. It might not be a way out, but it's somewhere that isn't here."