[ Well, fuck. Apollo ducks to say hello to Max, running his hands over his muzzle and ears with a solemn smile and a whispered hey there, buddy. But his attention drifts, returning to Frank with a pained look. Yeah. He really doesn't exactly look okay.
He slides down the opposite wall to Frank, hunching down to sit on the cabin floor, back against the wall facing Frank. A little distance between them. Distance is probably a good thing when you have no sense of touch. Jesus. Apollo can only imagine what it must be like, imprisoned and solitary and so fucking painfully lonely...
His hands fall to the comms device on his wrist, tapping out a quick message that he shoots across to Frank: ]
The music is terrible anyway. You aren't missing much. Promise.
[ Then, because he really isn't as unfeeling as the joke suggests, he adds: ]
no subject
He slides down the opposite wall to Frank, hunching down to sit on the cabin floor, back against the wall facing Frank. A little distance between them. Distance is probably a good thing when you have no sense of touch. Jesus. Apollo can only imagine what it must be like, imprisoned and solitary and so fucking painfully lonely...
His hands fall to the comms device on his wrist, tapping out a quick message that he shoots across to Frank: ]
The music is terrible anyway. You aren't missing much. Promise.
[ Then, because he really isn't as unfeeling as the joke suggests, he adds: ]
Can I get you anything? Water? Food?