“I have survived, but I have not been spared.” :’)
‘ – hey, buddy. you alright? ’
he’s not particularly fond of being interrupted during his squats–gotta be in tip-top shape at all times! it’s the SOLDIER way!–but there is a heaviness to the other’s voice that reminds him too much of Angeal, too much of people he’s loved and lost. it gives him a moment’s pause, as if he almost refuses to look at connor. his gaze is locked on the sky, the painted sky, bathed in the glow of a dying sunset. then, without question, he continues his squats, this time turned in full toward connor.
‘ times are tough. i get it. but you can’t think like that. ’ somehow, he manages to shrug while squatting. it’s second nature, this exercise. ‘ if you’re alive … you’re alive, y’know? sometimes we gotta look at the past and … just move on. ’ now there’s a heaviness to his voice and he stops, once more, mid-squat. he appears to reminisce for a minute, facial features a perfect example of tabula rasa–blank slate. as if he’s tried and failed to take his own advice. ‘ you’ll move past it. ’ then, a stutter-stop. ‘ i–i mean! n-not that you shouldn’t remember it. just that–grow from it. y’know? ’
a sudden groan, a flailing of his arms, hands pressed to his temple.
‘ a-h-h-h! i’m no good at this stuff. look, man. you gotta live. it’s what they would’ve wanted. ’ an aside to himself, it seems. ‘ besides–i’m here! things can’t be all bad, am i right? ’ a playful series of punches against connor’s shoulder. ‘ c’mon! live a little. do some squats with me, like this! alright, ready? one–two–three–go! ’
