[ Throughout his life, anytime someone initiated a meeting with "I wanted to see you," was typically followed by a, "I need to consult with you on a specific point in Orr's history," or "Could you provide some insight on the recent change in Risen activity north of Terzetto Bay?" or "Marshal, I need those bereavement forms signed off on by the end of the day."

"I want to hear your voice," is the last thing he expects.

Regardless of Aerith's true motives behind the statement, he can say with definitive certainty that no one has ever said that to him before. For a moment, he isn't sure if he's hallucinating this, or if the words are simply a product of all the other jumbled thoughts tumbling endlessly through his mind. He almost doesn't believe it.

But he decides to, because it's a nice thing to hear amidst all the lingering nightmare and trauma. Gingerly, he grasps the basket handle and threads his arm through the loop, an easy, yet tired smile crossing his face as he does so. ]

I'm flattered, Aerith. Thank you.

[ He settles the handle of the basket in the crook of his elbow and glances down at all of the apples inside. What is he going to do with all of these...?

He'll figure that out later.

With a tilt of his head, he gestures to the path before him, over Aerith's shoulder. ]

I was just on my way home. Walk with me--perhaps we can stop somewhere on the way. [ He's seen plenty of little establishments on the way to and from the archives, but he is always too focused to ever stop at any of them when he walks this way. ] And you're in luck. There's plenty to talk about.

[ About recovery. The aftermath. ]