"When isn't there something on my mind?" came the tired question, and Squall leaned back against the desk once again. It wasn't because she was leaning in close, he didn't mind that. He was just worn out mentally, the business between Galbadia and Esthar. The inevitability of a war between Gardens.

His own thoughts and concerns ranging from the Cadets to (something he wouldn't admit) his father and the Headmaster. Balamb. His friends. And her.