The day they told him Seifer had been found dead, nothing important had really happened. He could remember, faintly, feeling like the volume of the world had somehow been turned down.

He had stood for a while without moving, staring at the dark clouds billowing overhead. A drop caught on his cheek, and rolled down, hesitating at the edge of his chin before gravity tugged it to the floor- it got lost somewhere in the fabric of his jacket.

Shortly later, he returned to his office, settling in his chair for a moment beforeRinoa walked in, handing him a box of tissues. He stared at her blankly for a moment.

"Your cheek is wet."

"It's raining," he replied curtly, ignoring the tissues and picking up his pen, bending to his paperwork. After a moment the woman sighed and left. Irvine appeared at the door shortly.

"You should let it out, ya know. Its good for you."

"It's raining," he repeated without looking up.

"So it is," he answered without subtlety, "but Leonhart... you were standing under a glass ceiling."

The Commander paused for a moment, raising his head very slowly, eyes fixed on the sniper. "...It's raining today, Irvine." And it just had the slightest tremble this time, and it almost made the cowboy ashamed.

Irvine nodded, stepping back to the door. "...So it is. Good day, Commander."

He shut the door, carefully, so that the lock didn't click. Squall stared for a moment more before lowering his eyes back to his papers. "Just raining."