Alex kind of sinks into himself, not quite leaning back against the wall of the elevator, but close.

"Just couldn't stop dreamin' of flying," he admits quietly. He didn't want to admit how true the statement about the 9-5 sounded to him. A large part of him still hated himself, for not being able to do what every good Martian should. "Just got more and more miserable every day I was locked to the ground."