For a moment, a sharp remark threatened to slip past his lips, but he swallowed it. He'd already promised himself that he was going to remain as civil as possible here, if only for the sake of the mission, so he let the comment slide. Her words weren't especially inflammatory on their own; in the end, it was more her expression that rubbed him the wrong way.
"No, I suppose not. I asked out of habit," he finally answered, his tone light and conversational; it was, perhaps, just a little forced, but he hoped it was subtle enough for her to not notice or take offense from it. Cid propped his arm against the window, his gaze slowly drifting away from Claire and back outside. Really, there wasn't much to discuss; the operation in itself was so simple that elaborating on it would only complicate the situation unnecessarily.
"In the Cavalry, my men would often review the mission at hand en route to their destination," Cid explained, a fond expression passing across his features. This time the words came much more easily--warmly, even. It had honestly been quite some time since he'd thought of the GC--of the men who had followed him so loyally--and while it was not entirely pleasant, there were more than a few good memories he had from his time there.
He fell silent then, eyes trained on the scenery outside, as a faint smile lingered on his lips. Eventually, Cid sighed quietly and looked back at Claire. "My apologies. I was hit with a moment of nostalgia.
"Surely those in PSICOM do something similar at times. I cannot imagine the difference between our two groups to be that large," he said, refocusing. Though his own relationship with Nabaat and Rosch had never been anything but formal and polite (and sometimes not even that), he was, at times, curious about the goings-on in the group. They were a very secretive bunch, after all, and even following his branding, Barthandelus never told him more than he needed to fulfill his duty.
His own chance to join had long passed him by, much to the dismay of many, but his true calling--his personal ambitions--meant that PSICOM had never really been an option to begin with. If he ever returned to Cocoon, Cid would never have the opportunity to ask, especially given the level of animosity he must have built up by this point (position as primarch be damned), so now he turned to a most curious source of insider information. Whether or not she would entertain his curiosity, though, was another matter entirely.
If she didn't, well, at least the scenery outside was pleasant to look at, if not a rather dull way to pass the time.
no subject
"No, I suppose not. I asked out of habit," he finally answered, his tone light and conversational; it was, perhaps, just a little forced, but he hoped it was subtle enough for her to not notice or take offense from it. Cid propped his arm against the window, his gaze slowly drifting away from Claire and back outside. Really, there wasn't much to discuss; the operation in itself was so simple that elaborating on it would only complicate the situation unnecessarily.
"In the Cavalry, my men would often review the mission at hand en route to their destination," Cid explained, a fond expression passing across his features. This time the words came much more easily--warmly, even. It had honestly been quite some time since he'd thought of the GC--of the men who had followed him so loyally--and while it was not entirely pleasant, there were more than a few good memories he had from his time there.
He fell silent then, eyes trained on the scenery outside, as a faint smile lingered on his lips. Eventually, Cid sighed quietly and looked back at Claire. "My apologies. I was hit with a moment of nostalgia.
"Surely those in PSICOM do something similar at times. I cannot imagine the difference between our two groups to be that large," he said, refocusing. Though his own relationship with Nabaat and Rosch had never been anything but formal and polite (and sometimes not even that), he was, at times, curious about the goings-on in the group. They were a very secretive bunch, after all, and even following his branding, Barthandelus never told him more than he needed to fulfill his duty.
His own chance to join had long passed him by, much to the dismay of many, but his true calling--his personal ambitions--meant that PSICOM had never really been an option to begin with. If he ever returned to Cocoon, Cid would never have the opportunity to ask, especially given the level of animosity he must have built up by this point (position as primarch be damned), so now he turned to a most curious source of insider information. Whether or not she would entertain his curiosity, though, was another matter entirely.
If she didn't, well, at least the scenery outside was pleasant to look at, if not a rather dull way to pass the time.