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He can hear the puppy yapping from three doors over.
Of course, there's no literal dog on the Tulpar. Pony Express would be crazy to send them up to space with a live animal, nevermind the fact that five people make this shithole cramped enough as it is. Cabin fever, or whatever hippie sludge one calls it. Jimmy would give the dog a week before someone wound up eating it.
Would probably taste better than this powdered trash, too. Radioactive bullshit.
In any case, the puppy in question is their darling intern. Daisuke. Even sounds like a dog name. The kind you gift your children for Christmas, and then kick to the curb once they lose interest in it, because you sure as hell don't have the time or will to walk it every day. The kid even has ‘die’ in his name. It's a bad omen if Jimmy's ever seen one. If any supernatural shit ends up happening, they'll know whose fault it is.
Anyway, the yapping. The kid has a surprisingly strong voice. Exuberant, too. It bounces off the square, metal panels of the vents and worms its way into every room in its vicinity. Not unlike his Gameboy, his incessant questions - luckily directed at Swansea, the poor fucker who'd drawn the short straw - echo through the ship as though they could function as fuel. Hell, if they could recycle his chatter as fuel, they'd be set for life. Stick the kid in one of the jets, and he's bound to go on a muttering rampage about one thing or the other. It's maddening. It's a wonder Swansea hasn't taken a wrench to his cranium yet.
Nevertheless, it's not as though Jimmy dislikes the little mutt, per se. Although it may seem like it, especially to Curly, who, on more than one occasion, had awkwardly laughed along to one of his jokes about the kid, before lightly telling him to lay off. Like Jimmy was doing something wrong. What he says is true! God forbid he makes an accurate parallel between their intern and a baby suckling at Swansea's bosom of “wisdom” without results. The kid has a black hole in his head, or so Swansea swears, but apparently Curly is too busy playing peacemaker to recognize Jimmy's blatantly brilliant observation. What a prig.
Daisuke is one tail-growth away from fully barking. And that's what makes him valuable, in a way. His youthful nature, brimming with curiosity and enthusiasm for knowledge, makes him a good asset to the ship, despite his dull disposition in the noggin. He's open. He goes out of his way to ask when struck with puzzlement, where others would scurry off to privacy to stick their noses in handbooks. It exposes his lack of knowledge out to the open, of course, but when Swansea's colorful language invents a new way of berating him, he hardly reacts beyond a tightening of his lips and a brief blankness to his stare. It's gone before anyone else has the chance to see it, to recognize it. Anyone but Jimmy, that is.
Because, perhaps, this is where his initial idea of this dog parallel had come from. Not the yapping, like a young puppy. Not the tailwagging, when his clumsy attempts at humor are reciprocated with a rare laugh. No.
It's his natural obedience.
It may seem farfetched, now, as Jimmy is stuck in his sleeping quarters, forced to listen to the echoes of Daisuke's voice because both Swansea and Curly never know when to quit their shifts, despite appearances. And it's not like he can do anything with the other one, locked as the medbay doors are, so he's out of luck. He could have run inventory, but now that he's irritated, he can't. If something's missing or misplaced, Swansea had better take responsibility for his loud intern interfering with Jimmy's plans.
Because the fact of the matter is, Swansea could easily shut the kid up. It's truly ridiculously easy. Just mention his parents, and he wilts like those eyesore flowers plastered all over his clothes. Curly once told him to stop doing it, in his typical hedging style, but Daisuke had jumped to reassure the captain - because it's not like Jimmy is a liar. Fuck no. The kid knows his privilege, the fact that he didn't technically have to be here. Refuting his comments would've just been adding insult to injury. Shit, Jimmy's the victim here!
So, it felt nice. Feels nice, that whenever Daisuke has a question, and neither Curly, nor Swansea, nor the other one is around, that he doesn't swallow it up. Instead, he gazes up at him with those trusting eyes, and soaks up whatever Jimmy snipes back at him like a sponge. Because he recognizes Jimmy as his superior.
The way a puppy would.
“So, like, is this for like a…uh, a plus sign screwdriver?”
“For fuck's sake. It's phillips. Now hand it to me before I get a conniption!”
“Right, right. Sorry, boss.”
An irritating puppy, the future stray kind. But obedience is valuable. It's hard to tell whether he still views Jimmy as only a co-pilot. It's undeniable, that Daisuke likes the captain - but who on this fucking ship doesn't? These people make Jimmy into an afterthought, and then wonder why he's so snappish. But he digresses. Whether Daisuke views him as lesser than Curly or not doesn't matter as much when Jimmy knows for a fact that he views him as more than himself. Maybe if the other three took a page from the kid, the atmosphere on the ship would be better.
But they can't, because these people love to cause problems, it seems. And Jimmy's the one suffering the consequences, because God hates him, and none of his sacrifices will ever be enough.
So maybe it was God, then, who gifted him the puppy for Christmas. Maybe he'll take him back once Jimmy’s done with him.
Or Swansea will, months later, with the command of closing his naive eyes. Obedient, even in death.