jet siquliak that's it that's all, just jet

There was a time when Jet was a gleeful killer, and the first time they met– really met, anyway– Juno threatened to walk into certain death in the desert rather than be made to kill again. He had multiple chances to kill Vespa, but instead he took a knife to the gut to keep from having to shoot her; when his choice seemed to be between killing Vespa and watching Buddy die, he found an impossible third option. When he got hired on a second time, he not only demanded that his own hands stay clean, but that Jet couldn’t kill either. Not on his behalf, not at all.

For all his surly attitude and bitter sarcasm, for all the times that it takes the form of outrage, for all the times he was manipulated, Juno holds tight to his morals. 

What does that look like to someone like Jet, who’s struggled so hard to curb his most vicious instincts? Who’s still struggling?

And what does he see when he looks at Peter?

That shining moral core dulled by a veneer of greed and indifference? How frustrating must that be, to fight the cruelest parts of your own nature because you know better and want to be better, and then to look at this other man who seems so naturally predisposed to heroism and kindness and then makes an effort to push it away? Who acts embarrassed of the thing you’re working so hard for?

Jet, from the next room: An ancient Earth tradition. People would strap entire fir trees to the ceiling, and all who met under them would have to kiss.

Juno: I knew the ancient Earthens were horny, but this has to take the cake. I assume Vespa put it up so she and Buddy would have the room to themselves?

Jet: Actually, I believe Buddy said something about hastening the inevitable.