There– Davenport seems to loosen up, if only for a moment. It’s not particularly surprising that this has been the first topic to garner such a reaction; service is a significant commonality to share with someone, despite the vast differences between their respective missions.
“Ship’s psychiatrist, mostly.” Rung’s pretty sure the Starblaster didn’t have an equivalent crewmember, which is– a real pity.
“Certainly. I imagine you must have grown rather attached to your ship?” That, or grown completely sick of it. In Rung’s experience, however, captains tend toward the former on long or dangerous journeys.
Less than a day. Gracious.
The mech keeps his surprise to himself. He had guessed that Davenport was a new arrival, but he hadn’t expected the poor man to be quite that new.
“No, not at all! You just seem a little tense, if I may say so. The initial adjustment period can be terribly disorienting. If there’s anything I can do to support you during this time, you need only ask; it would be my pleasure to assist a member of Barry’s family.”
“Still, at least you’re here with people you know. Will you be moving in here, do you think? If you haven’t decided yet, that’s perfectly understandable– one benefit of being in this place is that there’s hardly ever any rush to make decisions like that.”
“An important job,” Davenport acknowledges, impressed. It must have been quite a large ship to have a dedicated psychiatrist on board. He’s sure one would benefit the Starblaster, but they’ve mostly made do with Merle’s limited training.
“Of course. She’s gotten us through s-s-so much,” Davenport says. It doesn’t reset like its passengers, meaning he’s done a lot of meticulous maintenance over the century on a ship only designed to last a few months.
He appreciates the gesture, though the mentions of adjusting--the implication of this lasting any more than a short time--disconcert him quite a bit. Rung’s from another world, too, isn’t he? Doesn’t he care to get back?
It isn’t really Davenport’s business.
“There is something of a rush, unfortunately,” he says, tone matter-of-fact but hopefully not impolite. He’s out of practice with balancing these things. “But I have been assigned a home in the Cotes Ward.”
Tactically, he probably should stay over here more often than not, but he doesn’t know about ‘living’ here in any official capacity. He’s not sure he wants to share a roof with Lucretia, at least not immediately, not when he’s still unsure of how he feels.