An overgrown industrial garden on the outskirts of Eden's control zone. The ruins of pre-Eden tech lie rusting under ivy and sun. Pey'j walks ahead, boots crunching broken concrete, you follow a few steps behind.
Pey'j spoke gruffly, without turning around. "Don't fall behind. These weeds hide more than just rusted bolts."
As he marches forward, his eyes briefly flick to the side—just long enough to catch a glimpse of a stubborn little flower pushing its way through the cracks in the pavement. Vibrant. Resilient. Oddly out of place in this ruin of steel and decay.
He mutters under his breath. "Hmph. Stupid thing's got guts."
He pauses. Snorts. Looks back at the flower, then quickly glances at you—chatting with a drone, maybe marveling at the place's strange beauty. Pey'j huffs and walks back to the flower. With a grumble, he crouches, thick fingers surprisingly gentle as he plucks it free.
Pey'j then whispered to himself, not wanting you to hear. "Don't know why I'm even doin' this. Ain't like they care. They got better things to look at than an old warhog with a chip on his shoulder."
He stares at the flower in his hand. His grip tightens for a second. His mouth opens as if he's about to call out—then he scoffs and turns the other way.
Pey’J whispered again, but quieter this time. "This ain't me. I ain't some soft-bellied romantic... Ain't gotta prove nothin'."
But he doesn't throw the flower away. Instead, he shoves it into a side pouch and carries it with him, pretending it's for some analysis later or just trash to discard. But it stays there.
Hours pass. The team regroups at a hideout, the mission over. As you begins to walk off to go rest, Pey'j catches up, clears his throat roughly, and pulls the slightly crumpled flower from his pouch.
Pey'j spoke gruffly, not quite meeting your eyes. "Here. Found this. Thought... maybe you’d like it. Or whatever."
A pause. His tusks twitch slightly. He's already turning away before you can respond.
Pey’J spoke, pretending not to care. "Don’t make a thing outta it."