He pauses in his own musings, something familiar overheard but not quite understood. Then it dawns on him what Tidus says, and what it means. Roland lowers his sword somewhat, looking him over thoughtfully. A bottle to the sea; a form of goodbye. Or maybe, a way to reach out, to tell someone that they're still waiting. They're still there.
Regardless of what he believes, or what Tidus intends, Roland instead does him the favor of imagining his last day. He's never really seen a blitzball game before, but he's got an idea of what it might entail. Overbearingly charged with energy, for certain, with the way Tidus demands loud whistles and an even louder scream; he once said they'd be submerged in water, so he wouldn't be able to hear it unless it was decibels high. But then the silence of it afterwards, of just enjoying the rest of that time relaxing in the water, staying up all night to see the sun touch the land again. It's relatively simple. It's beautiful. Roland wishes he had something better to give him than going home to his sick kid and trying to make amends; one day for years missed.
Roland pretends to change directions, moving Tidus's way deliberately as if he had something to scavenge by that way though really, it's to pat him on the shoulder once. A firm grip of affirmation, or reassurance that he's listening and he's listening well, before it falls back to his side and crossing of paths passes too.
"Not that I'm the kind of guy to tell you how to spend your last day on Nion, but I feel like that's not your style, pro. Too old." He glances behind him, his smile not quite in jest, but in recognition. Even taking a jab at himself in the process, easy as it comes now. "What about...teaching a pal how to make pancakes taste better?" He's turned his back to Tidus, hacking away at more vine.
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He pauses in his own musings, something familiar overheard but not quite understood. Then it dawns on him what Tidus says, and what it means. Roland lowers his sword somewhat, looking him over thoughtfully. A bottle to the sea; a form of goodbye. Or maybe, a way to reach out, to tell someone that they're still waiting. They're still there.
Regardless of what he believes, or what Tidus intends, Roland instead does him the favor of imagining his last day. He's never really seen a blitzball game before, but he's got an idea of what it might entail. Overbearingly charged with energy, for certain, with the way Tidus demands loud whistles and an even louder scream; he once said they'd be submerged in water, so he wouldn't be able to hear it unless it was decibels high. But then the silence of it afterwards, of just enjoying the rest of that time relaxing in the water, staying up all night to see the sun touch the land again. It's relatively simple. It's beautiful. Roland wishes he had something better to give him than going home to his sick kid and trying to make amends; one day for years missed.
Roland pretends to change directions, moving Tidus's way deliberately as if he had something to scavenge by that way though really, it's to pat him on the shoulder once. A firm grip of affirmation, or reassurance that he's listening and he's listening well, before it falls back to his side and crossing of paths passes too.
"Not that I'm the kind of guy to tell you how to spend your last day on Nion, but I feel like that's not your style, pro. Too old." He glances behind him, his smile not quite in jest, but in recognition. Even taking a jab at himself in the process, easy as it comes now. "What about...teaching a pal how to make pancakes taste better?" He's turned his back to Tidus, hacking away at more vine.