“it’s like, the feeling of sunshine on your skin. if, you know, sunshine was dark and quiet and completely fucking freeing when you fly through it—”
“listen. that sector is—it’s space socal”
staring at the night sky and letting out the happiest sigh. at some point, he ends up on the edge of a roof or balcony with at least one other person there to make sure he doesn’t fall off, with his legs dangling over the edge.
he makes the entire group relocate to somewhere without a roof above them, and spends the next 23409 hours pointing out constellations, mixing them up with the stars you see from other planets and the background info on constellations from other worlds
just generally making a huge mess of all the stars and their stories, even as his wasted self is absolutely 100% confident in his own narrative abilities
accidentally using the prettiest words to say something that’s unfairly beautiful and perfect and honest in between all the messy rambles. he doesn’t even notice, but it makes most of the jl pause for a sec bc woah
he launches into some ridiculous story he heard in another star system or was there for, and is barely able to get through it bc he’s laughing so much. everyone else is just like ?????????
“dude, it’s just. all those stars.”
“I love stars, don’t you love stars? who doesn’t love stars????”
“I mean, if I had to write a book it’d definitely be Ten Reasons Batman Will Never Be as Cool as Space”
“or Ten Reasons Space Is as Good and Pure as Barry Allen”
“or Ten Reasons I’m V Definitely Gonna Get Married to Space” ‘you mean in space?’ “no, I mean to Space, did i fucking stutter”
Red Hood 