He's aware of Tidus's eyes on him. He doesn't have to look up to imagine the expression that's being leveled his way right now, but he continues without comment, pushing his boots out of the way beneath the bed and taking his fingers to the fastenings on his belt. One he's loosened it from around his waist, he looks up, pretending as though he doesn't notice the unrest he's caused.
"You can sit."
It isn't really his room. Nothing here belongs to him. And, so, there's no need for any courtesy. Perhaps if he actually used it these days he would decide differently; perhaps he'll come to feel that way once he's accustomed to lying in this bed on sleepless nights and listening to the breakers roll through the water outside. When he was younger, he used to try to close his eyes and imagine how far it must be from here to Spira's seas; how many days would it take to sail from Zanarkand's docks to Besaid's shore?
His belt joins his collar, hung over the back of the bed. Removing his gauntlet is a somewhat more invested affair, but once the belts are unfastened he tugs his glove off at the fingers, the big sleeve of his haori furling loose over his wrist.
no subject
"You can sit."
It isn't really his room. Nothing here belongs to him. And, so, there's no need for any courtesy. Perhaps if he actually used it these days he would decide differently; perhaps he'll come to feel that way once he's accustomed to lying in this bed on sleepless nights and listening to the breakers roll through the water outside. When he was younger, he used to try to close his eyes and imagine how far it must be from here to Spira's seas; how many days would it take to sail from Zanarkand's docks to Besaid's shore?
His belt joins his collar, hung over the back of the bed. Removing his gauntlet is a somewhat more invested affair, but once the belts are unfastened he tugs his glove off at the fingers, the big sleeve of his haori furling loose over his wrist.