"You might starter with someone less challenging than Madame de Cedoux," is a gentle sort of joke. Derrica understands what he's trying to ask.
Her first year in Riftwatch, it had been difficult too. She doesn't remember if she'd done any of it well, only that it must have been done well enough not to offend anyone. And as much as she thinks Holden is too thoughtful and considerate to do wrong by anyone her cares for, Derrica is certain that saying so aloud is not going to be sufficient comfort for him.
"People will be grateful for whatever they receive, you know," Derrica tells him after a moment. "But if you want me to try and help, I will."
There's a smile that plays on his face at her joke, the more serious answer. Yes, he can imagine they will; he's met so many good, kind people here, Derrica among them. A holiday is just a holiday. But...
"It works differently on a spaceship," he explains, less facetiously than before. "In space. The things you have..."
The things you have. He could've better described this a year ago, fresher to planetary living; a Belter would do a much better job of it. He's gotten complacent here, isn't sure how to feel about that.
"Space is tight, for one thing." She'd understand that, from sea living. "And anything you have, or wear, can become a weapon during battle. Clothes that can catch or get stuck are out. Jewelry's out. There are ways to personalize your cabins, but you don't want to fuck with the integrity of the bulkheads or get in the habit of keeping stuff out that you don't want hurtling at you at high speeds during maneuvers."
She might remember how spartan he'd used to keep his room in the early months of being here, ingrained habits. It's messier now: complacency.
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Her first year in Riftwatch, it had been difficult too. She doesn't remember if she'd done any of it well, only that it must have been done well enough not to offend anyone. And as much as she thinks Holden is too thoughtful and considerate to do wrong by anyone her cares for, Derrica is certain that saying so aloud is not going to be sufficient comfort for him.
"People will be grateful for whatever they receive, you know," Derrica tells him after a moment. "But if you want me to try and help, I will."
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"It works differently on a spaceship," he explains, less facetiously than before. "In space. The things you have..."
The things you have. He could've better described this a year ago, fresher to planetary living; a Belter would do a much better job of it. He's gotten complacent here, isn't sure how to feel about that.
"Space is tight, for one thing." She'd understand that, from sea living. "And anything you have, or wear, can become a weapon during battle. Clothes that can catch or get stuck are out. Jewelry's out. There are ways to personalize your cabins, but you don't want to fuck with the integrity of the bulkheads or get in the habit of keeping stuff out that you don't want hurtling at you at high speeds during maneuvers."
She might remember how spartan he'd used to keep his room in the early months of being here, ingrained habits. It's messier now: complacency.