Unspoken
She offered the paper forward and watched as he raised the document carefully with his gauntleted hand. Clad as he was in his full armament, it must have been difficult for him to scan the many words on the paper.
"What think you?"
After a moment he shifted the weight on his feet, the metal plates of his armor clanking quietly in complaint. By the length of the pause, he was giving it careful consideration.
"He seems a good man. He has done much for Ivalice after the war." He stopped abruptly there—looking up at him, she wondered if it was because there was something he was refraining from telling her. Or, was it only because he moved to set the paper back down on her desk? He offered no explanation, but only proceeded onward to note: "However, he is also getting on in his years."
She considered this for a moment—not only his words but that hesitation, and the possible meanings behind both. His face was completely hidden by the intimidating helm he wore, and she could read nothing from it. His voice had echoed in his armor when he had spoken, and yet she had not caught any hint of awkwardness in it. She moved her mind back to the matter at hand, keeping her tone neutral and her features as level as his must be, though hidden they were from her view.
"He requires this marriage for political reasons. The union would similarly be an aid to Dalmasca."
He was silent for a long moment again.
"...Then for Dalmasca, Majesty."
Why had it taken him so long to respond?
She studied the ornate workings of his armor: the curved horns, the mouth frozen in its forever stern expression. The two darkened holes, behind which his eyes must be gazing out at her. Still, she could read nothing from it all.
"Do you have any objections, Basch? Or any reservations?"
He shook his head and shifted his weight again, moving back to the formal stance of a knight—of a Judge. By the tilt of the helm she could tell he was now looking up and past her.
"None. It is a good choice."
"I see." She had whispered those last two words. In the silence that followed, she came to realize she didn't wish to speak any louder... or indeed at all, anymore. Still, something inside her compelled her to do so one last time.
"Basch?"
"Yes, Highness?"
Even in the metallic echo, she could hear that his voice, though gentle, was entirely formal as ever. She shut her eyes, chiding herself wordlessly.
"...It's nothing. Thank you—that is all I had to ask."
"Good evening then, Majesty."
There was that pause again—not that he needed to say anything more, but it was a heavy silence that she could feel. Without addressing it he turned and strode off, making for the doors. When he came to the archway itself though, she heard the halt in his heavy footsteps. And though she did not look up to confirm it, she also caught the quiet rattle that must have been him turning to gaze back.
However, though her heart pounded strongly in her chest and she trembled for a reason she would not allow herself to understand, he did not return to her—there was another quiet clatter as he turned to look forward again, and proceeded to exit the doors instead. The heavy clink of his steps faded into the distance, leaving her seated there at her desk, alone in the room.