Alexa, you truly are too kind. 

He didn’t ask for any of this. He made quite sure that he hadn’t asked for any of this. (No, his attention had been, well, had been rather focused on Vasilia, he couldn’t have possibly given any sort of signal to her.) Yet, here you were. Holding him when he was too lost to stand. Speaking soothingly when he couldn’t get his thoughts together. 

Trying to take the duty he was too incompetant to carry.

Frankly, it was a touch...ah, worrying? The depths to which you’ll strive to steal this responsibility from him. Why would he ask you to destroy yourself for his mistakes? Wouldn’t that be the greatest failure of them all? He softly nuzzled under her chin - a perilously rough patch, for those with less natural padding - and eked out a relieved sigh. “Thank you, Alexa.” For what, he studiously didn’t say.

But don’t you see? He was well now. He was better now. He wrapped his arms around her as far as they would go, and patted her back. Once. Twice. The hug had gone on long enough, and you were free to let him go. “Let’s get you patched up, yes?” He offered with a bright little smile.

You’ve done enough. Now, it was high time for him to get back to work

****************

Can you taste that? It’s an old recipe; powerful, yet subtle. A masterful blend of anxious looks shared between close friends, the scuffing of boots inching away from the firing line, the clenching of spears, of muscle, of breath. And it only gets better the longer you let it sit. And. Steep.

That, my dears, is the delightful taste of [i]honesty.[/i]

“Mmmm. One of their finest hours.” Vasilia mused, eyes half-lidded, swimming in insults left unanswered. “So tempting, to let history repeat itself. You’d look fetching in silks and veil.~” Her eyebrows danced suggestively, and oh, what a delight it was to let Galnius stew in implication. See the gears turn! Surely, she wasn’t serious? Where would she get the outfits? Unless...did she have them on her person this whole time...

“But not today,” she sighed, and what a pity that was. “Something’s off about this Admiral, and I don’t like it.” And if they couldn’t see that, she was in no hurry to explain herself. “So instead, we move the Eater of Worlds, break her hold on the Ceronians, and rescue our Princess when they make a run for the shuttles.” 

She paused. Frowned. “...tell me; what do you think? Should I add some more treachery? Have I sufficiently dishonored myself?”