Jon listens, quiet and ever-alert, as he always did. The information that spills forth in a tidal wave is vivid, imagery that he didn't live as evocative in his mind as if he were there - troubling, as much, when apparently... he was. Timeline misalignment wasn't something he'd yet experienced, not to any meaningful extent; considering the varied universes, though, how surprised could he really be?
There's a moment where he considers, briefly, if this might be a Not-Himself type situation. Daisy's conviction and the rib ploy say otherwise, however - what Not-Jons would go so far? What can he say? He's got a certain kind of reckless abandon that was hard to find elsewhere, for better or worse.
His frown is a soft one, as he rolls the information back through once, like rewinding a tape player. He's so lost in thought and processing that the sense of being truly nourished after so many months of a dry spell have gone over his head. It was hard to see, if you didn't know him or what it meant to be an Avatar, but he's suddenly looking like he's finally joined the ranks of people who've finally shaken off the worst of the famine. The thought of being fed took the backseat to knowing and understanding, but what a lovely side-effect it is.
"Coffin, to cruise ship, to... here," Jon notes, quietly, folding his arms. "You've been through a sort of cycle of worse situations to even worse ones than that. I don't know that I'd call here, ah--- worse than what you described of the ship. It's not without it's heavy hand of troubles, of course, but... I don't think we're suffering livestock or anything like that."
At least, not that he knows of. God, he hopes he isn't proven wrong about that one.
"That does raise some troubling ideas about where you'd return to, once we've all finished our end of our bargain with the resident powers-that-be, but that's, uh. Something to worry about later, I suppose. Things here have stayed busy enough to not dwell on these things for too long, for the most part."
A moment of quiet, and he lets out a breath.
"I'm sorry, though. That, at least to some extent, I'm not the version of myself you might have expected to find here."
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There's a moment where he considers, briefly, if this might be a Not-Himself type situation. Daisy's conviction and the rib ploy say otherwise, however - what Not-Jons would go so far? What can he say? He's got a certain kind of reckless abandon that was hard to find elsewhere, for better or worse.
His frown is a soft one, as he rolls the information back through once, like rewinding a tape player. He's so lost in thought and processing that the sense of being truly nourished after so many months of a dry spell have gone over his head. It was hard to see, if you didn't know him or what it meant to be an Avatar, but he's suddenly looking like he's finally joined the ranks of people who've finally shaken off the worst of the famine. The thought of being fed took the backseat to knowing and understanding, but what a lovely side-effect it is.
"Coffin, to cruise ship, to... here," Jon notes, quietly, folding his arms. "You've been through a sort of cycle of worse situations to even worse ones than that. I don't know that I'd call here, ah--- worse than what you described of the ship. It's not without it's heavy hand of troubles, of course, but... I don't think we're suffering livestock or anything like that."
At least, not that he knows of. God, he hopes he isn't proven wrong about that one.
"That does raise some troubling ideas about where you'd return to, once we've all finished our end of our bargain with the resident powers-that-be, but that's, uh. Something to worry about later, I suppose. Things here have stayed busy enough to not dwell on these things for too long, for the most part."
A moment of quiet, and he lets out a breath.
"I'm sorry, though. That, at least to some extent, I'm not the version of myself you might have expected to find here."