[The quick push of a slender elbow into her side has Gideon wanting to return the gesture somehow - when one has been touch-starved for half one's life it becomes tempting to cling to what one can get, prolong it in some way. She doesn't though, can't think of a way to make it seem natural or unaffected. She is, however, saved from a moment of physical awkwardness as Aerith keeps talking, brightly. Has Gideon spitting out an incredulous laugh to fill up the space where that touch had been.]

You're kidding, right? Since when has dust and rock and sand ever really counted as a colour? Anyone who actually liked this shit would have to be pretty fucking dull.

[She says, then hopes like hell that Aerith isn't about to turn around and tell her that it's hers. Quickly, she shrugs. Gestures toward an imposing set of dusty metal doors, glinting dully in the near distance.]

It's just something I saw in a story once. Cohort Barracks on a distant and forbidding planet. Like, the military? I always wanted to join up, before.

[Before Canaan House. Before things had changed.]

But c'mon. Let me give you the grand tour. You'll be thrilled and amazed.

[The glib tone of her voice implying that she'll be anything but.]