[ Flynn hesitates, staring down at his perfect potatoes. His part, he supposes—the part Yuri will allow him to help with, anyway—is more or less done. Everything is chopped. Maybe he can dice some of those leaves for a garnish. His hands are itching with the need to do something. ]
It isn't as if either of us are strangers to making the best of what we have. And you're right that things aren't truly dire at the moment. We have beds, and a roof over our heads, and food on the table. Nothing is attacking us. I should be grateful for all of those things, but... I can't stop thinking about home. Is it really alright for me to just commit to living here? Why do I keep feeling so strongly that I can?
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[ Flynn hesitates, staring down at his perfect potatoes. His part, he supposes—the part Yuri will allow him to help with, anyway—is more or less done. Everything is chopped. Maybe he can dice some of those leaves for a garnish. His hands are itching with the need to do something. ]
It isn't as if either of us are strangers to making the best of what we have. And you're right that things aren't truly dire at the moment. We have beds, and a roof over our heads, and food on the table. Nothing is attacking us. I should be grateful for all of those things, but... I can't stop thinking about home. Is it really alright for me to just commit to living here? Why do I keep feeling so strongly that I can?