[ His smile tilts, faint at the corner of his mouth. He turns his hand over, rough palm facing upwards beneath the draw of her fingertips instead. There's an idle curiosity in it, the loose curl of his knuckles. ]

I get the feeling you've heard it all before. [ Not a combatant, he thinks to himself, but there is a gentleness that comes from bearing witness to it that he's pretty sure is at play here. As for him, well. The proof of it is all over, glaring mistakes made even more glaring by the way his body bears them as scars and aches and tensions. ] Ah, well. It's not important.

[ His shoulder rolls very slightly. ]

It is nice sometimes though. Hearing things I usually don't.