There's a rustle of his wings when Allen's hand shifts, a soft rasp of surprise before he catches the movement back and watches his friend stretch out his arms in front of him, one gloved hand against the red, shiny skin. He's only providing Esteban with more questions than answers, really, but it's-- it's peaceful. Sitting here, figuring things out. Enjoyable, in its odd way. Or maybe Esteban is just satiating his greed, his need to learn, to know more about his friends. He is always greedy on that front after all.

"Broken arms 're never fun." He huffed, nose scrunching in his distaste for the matter. There's still amusement when he shares this little thing with his friend, exaggerating it just a bit as he picks at the memory.

"Longest two months of my life," he adds with a bit of mischief, before turning to Allen again. "What happ'ned to you?" he asks, and though there is still brightness, he's fairly sure that Allen didn't break his arm by breaking the branch of a tree. He's greedy after all. The good, the bad. He wants to know.

The war is beyond him. Something he really can't help with. But he'll still listen, because Allen is his friend, is important to him, and if he can learn how to help through this-- or even how to not help through this-- he'll jot it down. Learn from it. Remember it. And one day, maybe, he'll know what to say, or maybe what to do when Allen might need it. Maybe. Esteban is still clumsy after all, so he doesn't put much faith in it, but it's worth a try still.