They didn't like to talk about it.

About how his once brilliant green eyes now looked permanently shattered, like millions of choppy, broken waves breaking up the pristine surface of the sea.

About how, in the rare occasion she was not scribbling furiously on a blueprint spread out across her desk, she spoke only to him, and met others with a sad grey glare.

About how they never slept without each other, comforting each other to the best of their abilities when the nightmares plagued them. Nobody objected.

About how they would never forget the terrible things they had seen at the age of only seventeen.

No, they didn't like to talk about it.