Rook, his back still facing the crew listened silently.
Dolphus was like a child complaining about needing to tidy their room. No, a child’s willingness to live in a filthy hovel is but innocent ignorance. In a way, it demonstrates personal dignity. At least, it had felt so when he was a young boy.
Rather, it was like a child complaining about receiving for their birthday a silver coin instead of a gold one.
Rook raises his arm and cranes his neck back to survey the lot. A thick lock of hair drops and settles between his black eyes as he shifts his hawk-like gaze to meet those of each crewmate.
In the hands of imbeciles. Who, then, will raise their hand?