spacedisaster | [ Inbox

Is that what you look for in those bottles, Peter? Silence?

[He doesn't want silence, doesn't want yet another excuse to dwell on the things that he cannot change. The change that might as well be set in stone, doesn't want to see what he will have to give up to get his regret undone.

The temptation to change it.

It always lingers, just outside his waking hours, like a second heartbeat beating next to his own. It vibrates in his chest, a thrumming note of want and weakness.

But

He came here, he made food and offered it to someone who might be... not an enemy.]

Cheers. [And it flows down his throat like liquid fire.] I try to not think about my mistakes, but make steps to do better in the future. We cannot change the past, but we are the masters of our futures.

Sometimes. Usually, my music does the trick, and I prefer it over alcohol. Less problem the morning after. But drinking with a friend also soothes the soul, it's always better than being sad and alone.

[ Or being 'sad, alone AND drunk', which ends up doing more harm than good to his psyche and his liver. Peter's words are meant as appreciation for Aleksander's company, well aware that good, real friends are few and far between. The accident with Newt and the Precursors only made it more obvious how fragile are their relationships aboard the Ximilia. ]

Sounds like you have a much healthier way of handling things than I ever did. Perhaps it can be learned. 'Master of our future', I like that. I never really believed that the future is set in stone, things like destiny seem absurd. I like to have control over my own life.

[Healthy? Aleksander's eyebrow shoots up as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.]

I do what must be done. Why look back with regret, when it does nothing to help. [Except, like Peter, he was here. On the station and going through the missions, fulfilling his personal goals with near-religious fervor and he laughs, low and dark.] Except for the one that brought me here, obviously.

A master of your own destiny. I like the sounds of that- it sounds better than being left to the will of fate.

I like your music. It was very-- nice, the last time in the simulation room. Soothing a savage soul and all that. I've heard of it before, but I've never really liked music all that much.

[ Peter's response to the eyebrow gesture is to offer a helpless shoulder shrug. He's grown up around space pirates, jerks, and maniacs, all of them had terrible ways of coping with their problems. The Guardians are only marginally better at it. ]

See, that's a reasonable way of thinking. Alas, my brain and my conscience simply do it. It's not always bad, however, regret is a good teacher, if cruel.

[ The harder reasons are the ones that stick, for good or bad. The whole ordeal with Ego made Peter less willing to trust people easily, but being cautious has also helped him. And so on and so forth. When Aleksander mentions his regret, Peter doesn't ask what it is, simply raises his glass again and nods, understanding. ]

It does have a nice ring to it, doesn't it? We almost sound like a music band. I'm glad you liked the songs. There's always the right one for all of us, if we're patient enough to look for it.

[ It's something that could be applied to other life affairs, not just music, like finding the right partner, or a friend. And no, Peter's decide, he's going to find a way to copy his songs to a new music player and gift it to Aleksander. He will find a way. ]

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