"Yes, well... we were poor. No electricity until I was twelve- oh. Ah. 2008. AD. Earth." He said with the resigned explanation of a man that had become used to this kind of thing.
It was that war, another one with war crimes, but ones committed by humans upon humans. Before, theoretically, they had better things to worry about. "Trader isn't a bad job. I worked in the merchant navy. I liked it. Here, I am somewhere between frontiersman and tracker." And still, he was a smuggler.
He had been a little withdrawn, his trust wary and while normally he had no problem talking to new people, this one still had him dancing around the edge of the conversation. Mostly because, even if he claimed to go to public school, any school at all made him sound considerably more intelligent than Niko. Even if he were to open his mouth and speak in his native tongue, the Serbian was swollen with rural accent and slang. He didn't sound any more intelligent there than in English.
(It was a pity that he couldn't seem to realize that speaking three languages was its own accomplishment.)
"I ah..." He rubbed his thumbs together in grumpy shyness, fingers laced around his glass as he tried for the life of him not to sound like an idiot. "The military, it does things to you. It teaches you to hate, and it teaches you that it is okay not to feel sometimes. Then later it creeps up on you when you are not expecting. It is not a good life for a teenager. You have my sympathies and hopes you at least did not have to leave a battlefield to come here."
Though he didn't look like he was fresh off a battlefield. Just a little sick.
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It was that war, another one with war crimes, but ones committed by humans upon humans. Before, theoretically, they had better things to worry about. "Trader isn't a bad job. I worked in the merchant navy. I liked it. Here, I am somewhere between frontiersman and tracker." And still, he was a smuggler.
He had been a little withdrawn, his trust wary and while normally he had no problem talking to new people, this one still had him dancing around the edge of the conversation. Mostly because, even if he claimed to go to public school, any school at all made him sound considerably more intelligent than Niko. Even if he were to open his mouth and speak in his native tongue, the Serbian was swollen with rural accent and slang. He didn't sound any more intelligent there than in English.
(It was a pity that he couldn't seem to realize that speaking three languages was its own accomplishment.)
"I ah..." He rubbed his thumbs together in grumpy shyness, fingers laced around his glass as he tried for the life of him not to sound like an idiot. "The military, it does things to you. It teaches you to hate, and it teaches you that it is okay not to feel sometimes. Then later it creeps up on you when you are not expecting. It is not a good life for a teenager. You have my sympathies and hopes you at least did not have to leave a battlefield to come here."
Though he didn't look like he was fresh off a battlefield. Just a little sick.