[ a small twitch to falco’s lips stirs at the compliment, but the gravity of the situation he’s feeling keeps his smile from going ear to ear. he’s happy to hear that. he’s happy because that meant it would be useful.
but, how did he feel? falco goes quiet in an attempt to assimilate and put into words what he feels— he’s thankfully not one to shy away from dialogue or talking about what it is he’s feeling (it was, actually, the quality that netted him a future girlfriend in the middle of a war). ]
I, um, [ is that what he’s asking? he begins to fold away the fabric in a neat square once it’s been seen. ] I’m really happy that you care that much about me. [ and inhale, because, certainly, he’s getting emotional, these gentle hazel doe eyes tracking with his words. the smile that comes with it is soft, small, like a fluffed cap of feathers. ] I do, too. That’s why I can’t just . . . Not do anything. I don’t want to lose you, either.
[ it’s like— it’s like watching someone run off into danger. he’s never kept put. gabi, pieck, reiner, annie— he’s never been able to just watch them go, without doing a thing about it. most of those times, falco had made a right call. if he hadn’t been there, worse would happen.
at least some of the worst happened to him, and not them— he took the bulk for being there, and there’s no regret in it. not if he uses that time wisely. once the cloth if tucked into itself, falco sets it on top of the table. there was something else; he inhales to make sure he’s ready to talk about it. ]
I made a promise to someone back home. They’re the reason I’m still alive.
[ it echoes to him, all the time. when he sleeps, he dreams— he sees the world through galliard’s eyes, from his life to his last moments. he wasn’t afraid. he went down protecting someone else. ]
If I could help with something, whatever it is— I want to help. I like helping people, but . . . I need to make sure he didn’t die for nothing.
Whenever I’m stuck, I keep thinking, what would Galliard do, if he were still here? He wouldn’t just . . . Watch. [ or hide, or anything of the sort that had to do with being idle, much less with a gift (or curse) so rare in numbers. falco leaves out his inheritance, but only because it seems like too much information for one sit down. ] I can’t do that to him.
no subject
but, how did he feel? falco goes quiet in an attempt to assimilate and put into words what he feels— he’s thankfully not one to shy away from dialogue or talking about what it is he’s feeling (it was, actually, the quality that netted him a future girlfriend in the middle of a war). ]
I, um, [ is that what he’s asking? he begins to fold away the fabric in a neat square once it’s been seen. ] I’m really happy that you care that much about me. [ and inhale, because, certainly, he’s getting emotional, these gentle hazel doe eyes tracking with his words. the smile that comes with it is soft, small, like a fluffed cap of feathers. ] I do, too. That’s why I can’t just . . . Not do anything. I don’t want to lose you, either.
[ it’s like— it’s like watching someone run off into danger. he’s never kept put. gabi, pieck, reiner, annie— he’s never been able to just watch them go, without doing a thing about it. most of those times, falco had made a right call. if he hadn’t been there, worse would happen.
at least some of the worst happened to him, and not them— he took the bulk for being there, and there’s no regret in it. not if he uses that time wisely. once the cloth if tucked into itself, falco sets it on top of the table. there was something else; he inhales to make sure he’s ready to talk about it. ]
I made a promise to someone back home. They’re the reason I’m still alive.
[ it echoes to him, all the time. when he sleeps, he dreams— he sees the world through galliard’s eyes, from his life to his last moments. he wasn’t afraid. he went down protecting someone else. ]
If I could help with something, whatever it is— I want to help. I like helping people, but . . . I need to make sure he didn’t die for nothing.
Whenever I’m stuck, I keep thinking, what would Galliard do, if he were still here? He wouldn’t just . . . Watch. [ or hide, or anything of the sort that had to do with being idle, much less with a gift (or curse) so rare in numbers. falco leaves out his inheritance, but only because it seems like too much information for one sit down. ] I can’t do that to him.