He's glad Tidus is getting the most use out of that Arms Band, at least.
Roland's eyes scan the page again, even though he knows nothing new will come out of it. He's just thinking, and it's best to keep his mind and hands busy while he does so.
"...Something less concrete. Someone can easily make the connection of sending messages in a bottle because it's a physical object, a physical concept. Alright, let's change it to something only you and I can make out of." He looks up, the sky morphing still into darkness and color all at once. Roland's eyes grow wide, and he looks at Tidus with a bright gaze. "Latte. Project Sweet Latte. It could be a cooking project, but we know it's not. Simple enough to remember, without sounding obvious if it was dropped casually in conversation. Hey Tidus, want a cup of sweet latte?" Pretty convincing. Relatively ridiculous, but Roland's come from a world of nicknames and code names anyway. He's heard worse in his own oval office.
He reads the paper, again. He doesn't stop, finger on his chin as his elbows lean on his lap, hunched and forward against the warmth of the fire.
"Let's take it one at a time. What would be your worst case scenario, first? That's always the best place to start." Roland finally drops the page, sets it aside for now, and folds his hands together against his mouth.
no subject
Roland's eyes scan the page again, even though he knows nothing new will come out of it. He's just thinking, and it's best to keep his mind and hands busy while he does so.
"...Something less concrete. Someone can easily make the connection of sending messages in a bottle because it's a physical object, a physical concept. Alright, let's change it to something only you and I can make out of." He looks up, the sky morphing still into darkness and color all at once. Roland's eyes grow wide, and he looks at Tidus with a bright gaze. "Latte. Project Sweet Latte. It could be a cooking project, but we know it's not. Simple enough to remember, without sounding obvious if it was dropped casually in conversation. Hey Tidus, want a cup of sweet latte?" Pretty convincing. Relatively ridiculous, but Roland's come from a world of nicknames and code names anyway. He's heard worse in his own oval office.
He reads the paper, again. He doesn't stop, finger on his chin as his elbows lean on his lap, hunched and forward against the warmth of the fire.
"Let's take it one at a time. What would be your worst case scenario, first? That's always the best place to start." Roland finally drops the page, sets it aside for now, and folds his hands together against his mouth.