proxima : eon&row
It was an accident, like most things in his indeterminable lifespan have become.
Eon does not often take off the glove on his left hand. There were still lingering passengers of the Derelict that had no idea who he was, or what he was. He’d lost his hand on Rishi long ago, had covered the crude replacement ever since he boarded the ship. Bionic parts were not uncommon, and neither were genetic enhancements, even on the outer rim. But rumors about his inhumanness still traveled the ships halls like a ghostly reminder.
He is not one of them, he never would be.
So he stalls the inevitable truth with a flimsy piece of fabric and unwillingness to ever be without it.
But truth is fragile, and all it takes is an untimely minor explosion that completely incinerates his glove and most of his sleeve. Eon was honestly less worried about being on fire for a brief moment in time and more concerned with losing that bit of leather on his hand. His apparent lack of injury spooked anyone involved in the small accident still unaware of his mechanical origin, but Eon is determined to check on those involved. Even if all it does is earn him a wary glance or a dismissive nod. He stands in the doorway of the last person, hesitance to step inside. Eon quietly raps his knuckles against the wall.
“You’re not in the medbay, so I hope to assume you suffered no injuries.” Eon scans Row’s face carefully. He knew she’d been unconscious until only a short while ago. They had yet to really know each other, but he still keeps both hands tucked inside his robes. “Besides that, are you alright?”
@row-baelfyre