He may as well be in another universe. Apollo nods wearily. Isn't that the truth.
"I guess it is," He agrees pensively. His gaze falls back down to the photo and for a moment - a strangely delirious moment of realisation - he cracks a mirthless smile. There's no real amusement, just a weary kind of dark humour as he shakes his head.
"This fucking place!" There's an edge of anger in his voice, and frustration too. "It really knows how to push our buttons, doesn't it?"
Because Apollo can't really shake off the feeling that every single thing in this station has been specifically designed to mess with them. It's a grossly invasive kind of emotional torture, really. Whether it's a photo, or a mask, or friends disappearing in the blink of an eye. Everything is designed to fuck with their heads in a very specific way.
"The sooner we all get out of here, the better."
And if the by-product of this particular bit of emotional trauma means that maybe Alex gets some resolution, then maybe that's one good thing that's come of it all.
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"I guess it is," He agrees pensively. His gaze falls back down to the photo and for a moment - a strangely delirious moment of realisation - he cracks a mirthless smile. There's no real amusement, just a weary kind of dark humour as he shakes his head.
"This fucking place!" There's an edge of anger in his voice, and frustration too. "It really knows how to push our buttons, doesn't it?"
Because Apollo can't really shake off the feeling that every single thing in this station has been specifically designed to mess with them. It's a grossly invasive kind of emotional torture, really. Whether it's a photo, or a mask, or friends disappearing in the blink of an eye. Everything is designed to fuck with their heads in a very specific way.
"The sooner we all get out of here, the better."
And if the by-product of this particular bit of emotional trauma means that maybe Alex gets some resolution, then maybe that's one good thing that's come of it all.