“Rain. More and more rain. Jesus, I’m getting so sick of seeing nothing but water.”

Phillip grumbles, leaning against the control board, his free hand scratching his jaw. It was obvious he was getting sick of his surroundings; stuck on a military ship surrounded by nothing but water. He turns to you, one of his Shadows, and asks you a question; in a way, wanting to get closer to you. You’d always listen to him rant, and he wanted to get to know you.

“Where’re you from, kid?”