There's so many emotions, even before Tidus can properly upright himself. Protect, shield, Inigo!, comfort -- it's such an increasing need, even with Tidus's own lurching heart trying to escape his chest. All the worrying about the blue-haired guy, all the worrying that they would leave him, desert him after the conversation of how they promised each other they never would.

Inigo has his arm, but Tidus has his and Esteban's, that hoard need so intimately woven into the half-elf's being. There's no longer elbows in any ribs, but arms grabbing around the body under him; one around Inigo's shoulders, the other around his head. Tidus brings him so close, so tightly against his body, more like a mother smothering a baby close to their shoulder and chest than something more natural for the two of them.

But what's natural about any of this? About this moment, this whole occasion. "'Dians," he lets out on a breath, and even repeats it in his mind, through the link. Dead Guardians in a ditch-- "We were tryin' for days, we were doin' everything to try 'n' get everyone."

There's a bit of an accent in his voice, making his words looser than they would be, usually. Familiar, but not from his throat.