Oh.

[ Trahearne can handle quite a bit--the fact he survived this entire ordeal and is up and walking around now, and the fact that he resisted the dragon's voice for forty-plus days is a testament to that.

Praise like this, though? Praises for himself, on a personal level? He's never sure how to take.

His gaze drops to the basket of apples on his arm as he falls silent, and embarrassingly, he feels a sting on his cheeks. For a second, he observes the patterns and imperfections on the fruit, quietly hoping she doesn't see or notice the gold coloring his cheeks.

When he does speak again, his voice is quiet. ]

Thank you, Aerith. That's very kind of you to say.

[ When he looks up again, he's regained his composure, the unusual color on his cheeks gone. He offers her a little, half-hearted smile in turn. ] My only regret is that I was not there to stand and fight alongside the rest of you. [ Maybe he could have done more to help then.

And speaking of: ] ...I hear your injuries were quite severe. I suppose you being here means you're recovering well, all things considered?

[ It comes from a place of genuine concern, and a bit of guilt. ]