“I’m still not used to living in such a small community, where people can spot each other based on so little a thing,” he admits, sipping at the tea and letting it warm his bones. Even with a limited number of passengers to Andromeda, even with Reyes’ stubborn attempts to assemble the manifest and pin names and identities to every single person who passed through his port of call, there had been too many strangers to keep track of. Even too many aliens flocking through. The intimacy of these villages is a far cry from it.

“Is this what small-town living is supposed to feel like, do you think? Or, was like.” Time is a nebulous concept here; looking around at the rustic little cabin that 7’s taken up residence in, it honestly feels like he’s stepped into a time machine and emerged a few hundred years before his era.