[ The hand in his hair makes him feel small - like the cocky, brash thing he was when he first joined SOLDIER. Angeal used to ruffle his hair all the time and laugh when he fussed about it.
Armada doesn't muss it now, but it brings back those memories -- memories of what it felt like to have a family and be part of something.
He's learned not to share much about himself -- a defense mechanism after watching so many of his fellows be thrown to the wolves and die at his own hand. He must be strong, he must not show weakness, he must not be anything but a good damn SOLDIER.
Every so often, though, things slip through the cracks. It's why his eyes are wet, why he cries softly for a minute with Armada's hand in his hair.
Finally, he collects himself enough to manage an answer: ]
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Armada doesn't muss it now, but it brings back those memories -- memories of what it felt like to have a family and be part of something.
He's learned not to share much about himself -- a defense mechanism after watching so many of his fellows be thrown to the wolves and die at his own hand. He must be strong, he must not show weakness, he must not be anything but a good damn SOLDIER.
Every so often, though, things slip through the cracks. It's why his eyes are wet, why he cries softly for a minute with Armada's hand in his hair.
Finally, he collects himself enough to manage an answer: ]
I am honored.