[centre][hr][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/181005/fc898f921f53203bc3bc9106717c7c88.png[/img] [sub][color=Silver][i]Garnian Salient: Rear Line, August 25th[/i][/color][/sub] [hr][/centre] [color=Silver] Her phrasing was what concerned him, but there was a slight ease in his tension when her hand gently patted against his back. The strange sensations of a soft human touch left him slightly more at home, one that left a slightly uncontrollable smirk upon his face. The scent of the battlefield before them, one he still hadn't seen beyond the trench's walls, was harsh and horrid, yet she stood out like a blossoming flower in the looming battlements they resided within. Jean found himself shifting slightly closer when the man beside him grunted, forcing more and more soldiers to line up. As mentioned, Jean was most concerned by what she meant by how the battle was to go. Killing was not in Jean's nature. Were there really hundreds of thousands of beautiful creatures like such who'd be happy to kill? Jean would do it only for the sake of his survival and those behind him, however he felt a strong urge not to ever pull the trigger. Part of him would be reluctant to fire the rifle, however there was no choice. He had to kill and there was no question about it. If only this poor girl knew about how Jean ended up in the military, including the racist bigotry and social pressures to go along with it. Or perhaps he was the only pessimist here, being unrealistic to what the war could become?[/color] [color=Aqua][b]"You're a diamond in the rough, Paloma. Those words could inspire an entire army, if someone gave you the microphone to do so. And yeah...maybe it isn't that bad? We haven't seen the frontline before us, so maybe we're...Maybe I'm just being a bit of a idiot, perhaps? Wouldn't you agree?"[/b][/color] [color=Silver]He rubbed the back of his helmet and wiped some of the rainy substances from its metallic frame, looking back down upon the short Paloma. She indeed was a diamond in the rough, seeing herself as a soldier not of fortune, but of honour and decree. Perhaps she had something to protect back home. That thought reminded him of a special someone in Jean's own life who'd done the same, only to expend her life without closure or relief. [/color] [centre][sub][@Ambra][/sub][/centre]