Yuna wanted to ask him so many things.
She remembered her father enough to remember what it was like to have him, and what it was like to not have him. There was honor, always honor, to the way his stories were told. Even Kimahri, a Ronso with no real need to be attached to her father but through Yevon, even he spoke with such admiration rumbling deep in his throat.
But Sir Auron, there was something else there. He was a guardian. And if there was any lesson she had learned in her short span of time on Spira, it was that a guardian that wasn't close to you was not really a guardian at all.
She wanted to know her father's laughter. But Auron was, if anything, quiet. He said what he needed to. And she was too polite to ask anything.
She was always too polite, and it burned in her throat.
"Yuna, we're moving."
She'd been staring again, in the way that let her mind settle, prepare. It wasn't preparation for death--no not yet--but soaking in the life while she had it. Maybe that was why Tidus was so fascinating. He was so very lively.
"Sir Auron..."
He turned and that one eye of his--oh she wanted to ask what happened with the other one--affixed to the one eye that was not her mother's. Having one eye working properly, he had to make a choice on which one to look at on a person. It was one question, maybe.
He raised a hand, but put it back down at his side. Not yet. It was an answer enough for now.