He wanted to say yes it was flying. Or driving. Or anything but what it was. He ran a hand through his damp hair, vaguely aware his hat had fallen off somehow...somewhere and looked away, still shuddering for breath, listening to that smooth, familiar, deadpan. Comforting. Marco moved and Tatch glanced at him then smirked as he poked his forehead.

Something to do with...with that...no... No because....no because it wasn't... Well it was there he couldn't deny it. He leaned forward and rested his forehead on Marco's shoulder. Smaller than his own but strong nontheless.

"When--" he swallowed. "When I first came to Balamb, I was a mess, you know? They...the thought I was going to die. Heh. But I...I had these...things. For no reason. I couldn't stop shaking. Sh-shell shock I thought. Then the nightmares s-started and I couldn't-- Figured-- any place was better and-- I got better."

Ah damn his eyes were watering.

"And then...Namur came..." he gave a choked laugh. "Poor guy... I...I..." But he couldn't finish. He swallowed again. "S--sorry, mate."