He picked up on it immediately, unsure of what it was for now but aware that it was there. It was the most subtle thing in the world, blink and you'd miss it, the fact he'd even caught onto it was such a slim probability that only served to punctuate the fact it happened. Naturally, he could just ask directly and be assertive about it, and while that was the most effective way to figure out what a person was truly thinking it wasn't the sort of MO he followed in any regard.
"Houston isn't big on art. At least not the kind you're thinking of, any chance a source of creativity like that could have taken root is long gone. The only way you ever see it anymore is the way you already saw - dissent." It seemed like at least for the moment any semblance of what might have been a facade had been dropped and he was just speaking frankly. Genuinely trying to express what life was like here and the associated cultures. The latter part of that was something he was going to get to.
Glancing out the window and turning away from her briefly, the light caught all his facial features somewhat flatteringly, but it also enunciated every crease and evidence of stress. She was wrong to assume his life hadn't taken much of a toll on him, it had and it was going to keep exacting some kind of price in exchange for what he was accomplishing. In the seconds of time that reflection lasted, he turned back and seemed to appraise her for a moment. "With short lifespans people here don't have the time to mince words. So more often than not, they'll say exactly what's on their mind without caring for how it sounds. This can make them seem hostile, but they aren't. Life's made up of time and they don't want to waste it by not saying what they actually mean. It's why the art you saw is so expressive, it's the bedrock of this colony's culture. But so is suffering and neglect, for as kind and hospitable as the locals can be under the right circumstances, violence has become commonplace and only seems to escalate the more desperate people get. This world, this system even, all of it's just one big cage and it gives off this palpable sense of repression. Like there's something more to this place and its people, but you'd never know until that cage is thrown open."
He took a deep and slow breath after sharing all of this with her, as if suddenly stricken with a sense of melancholy and renewed determination at the same time. An odd combination to be sure, but a distinct one. "Choice. It's something the people here know the value of, and that we've fought for. And I know that behind those striking eyes of yours that something's on your mind but you aren't talking about it. You can choose to be open about it with me and cultivate trust, in return I'll be open with you. Or you can choose not to and things remain as they are." This was now a full circle. From how he'd explained the finer points of culture and sentiments here, to the man he'd interceded to prevent the arrest of, and finally to this exact conversation.
There was an almost perfect stillness to him as he waited, eyes conveying a sense of genuine interest for what her choice would actually be. It even seemed like he'd gotten a step closer and his posture had softened, likely more comfortable in this setting and trying to promote a sense of reassurance. If there was a perfect way to encapsulate everything he'd just tried to convey in words down to a single moment, then this was it.
