[ In some ways, he appreciates the way that Nanami ends up seated, tucked into the table, because it tells him a lot about how he feels: first, that he doesn’t really view Cloud as a threat, or something worthy of fear, and for another, that he’s comfortable around him enough to take a load off and not bring them standing shoulder to shoulder, stiff to ward off any danger. The fact that he himself remains standing probably isn’t sending the right message; he doesn’t find Nanami terrifying, but someone curious, instead, and his stance is more for the effort of looking intimidating than actually being it.

Nanami doesn’t need his protection, no matter what he looks like. Beneath those layers is muscle, he knows, can see from the way he carries himself; he doesn’t know what he did after the office job, but suffice to say it’s curious that he isn’t sharing it.

With another soft swallow, he nods his agreement—-Nanami isn’t wrong about him or the sword. ]

I grew up in a place like this, though. [ Cautious, his voice slow, like it feels wrong to admit it. ] So I’m used to it. Out in the mountains. Very…

[ He looks down into his glass, lips pursed. ] …Rustic.

Are we going to keep dancing around it, or do you want to tell me what you’ve been doing in the past few years? [ A flicker of his gaze up again, though he’s almost smiling, his lips twitching, as he brings the glass up again to cover it with a swallow. ] For the record, I don’t mind dancing.