[ It's late (or so Petyr assumes — the passage of time is hard to measure without the rise and fall of the sun) when they make their way to the oxygen gardens. The ship is still an alien thing to him (sterile, too clean, too enclosed), but there's something near comforting in the gardens, despite the blue light that pervades each level. It's a blue he's never been familiar with. Not the blue of the sky over the Trident nor the blue of any jewel he has ever seen.
So he seeks out the blue of the eyes of his daughter, his gaze inevitably finding her again no matter how fascinating his surroundings might prove. (Admittedly, it isn't necessarily so much a need to find some grounding anchor as it is to make sure that she is by his side, that she is still his. It's something that paints itself as simple concern, the concern of a father looking after his daughter, making sure that she stays safe in an environment that has yet to prove itself strictly friendly. They make quite the picture. They always do.) ]
( ACTION )
So he seeks out the blue of the eyes of his daughter, his gaze inevitably finding her again no matter how fascinating his surroundings might prove. (Admittedly, it isn't necessarily so much a need to find some grounding anchor as it is to make sure that she is by his side, that she is still his. It's something that paints itself as simple concern, the concern of a father looking after his daughter, making sure that she stays safe in an environment that has yet to prove itself strictly friendly. They make quite the picture. They always do.) ]