Roland is stunned. Gone - or lost, somewhere - was the collection of Tidus's smiles and laughs, jabs and jests; the fire snuffed out of him so unnaturally that Roland is left to figure out where the remnants of smoke leads. He can't see it, he can't find it in the confusion that colors Tidus's eyes, or what he can see of him, as he purposely evades Roland's own. He doesn't know what happened in Tidus's isolation. What exactly changed since he held him down by the ankles, silently begging him to stay whole, to stay with them so they could figure out what to do next. Not to let the train win; don't let them suffer the same fate as the Voidtreckers who lost everything.

But that didn't really matter to right now, did it? The answers weren't going to come this easily. Not until Tidus could find it in himself to return.

When the young man stands, papers and notebooks set aside, ready to be abandoned, Roland resonates to the sound of his pain. He watches him tense up while remaining limp at the same time, ready to dart out of there when he could, but fighting not to turn back around too. A boy stuck at the precipice. Roland swallows thickly, turning back to lean against the table though he won't abandon to the task so soon. There's a reason between the two heads of Evermore, it was Evan who could rally a bickering army to unite against a common foe. What would he do? What would he say?