If Auron didn't want to be found, he wouldn't be out on the deck. He has a whole city to hide away in, although he has nothing to hide from but the words of his friend, which haunt him in every sudden recollection that's brought about by this place. But he hasn't even tried to make an escape. This is the shape of his life now. When living inside of a memory, what can you do but look on the past, and regret? What he's does here is the only thing that he can do.

It's something.

Auron glances sideways, toward the sound of footsteps on stairs. Tidus is rarely quiet. Not in sadness, not in happiness, and surely not in boredom. So when he immediately breaks the silence, there's no reaction. But when has he ever seemed taken off-guard by anything? What could shock the dead?

"I didn't want to interrupt."

The even sound of his voice falls somewhere inscrutable between sarcasm, nonchalance, and amusement.