[again, he doesn't really answer. instead, he's apparently abruptly done with looking at the nebula and whatever is hiding beyond it--turning around with a sigh that makes it sound as if he hasn't spent the majority of the last few weeks sleeping.
he leans his back against the window and folds his arms.]
I don't want to think about what comes next. I'm sick of wondering.
no subject
he leans his back against the window and folds his arms.]
I don't want to think about what comes next. I'm sick of wondering.
[--to finally answer her original question.]