His general's hands are soft.
They are scarred and calloused from endless training, endless fighting, day after day of felling down his enemies with his hammer on the battlefield and night after night of planning and sketching down battle strategies in his study. But Charles already expected that.
What he did not expect was for Herman's hands to feel so soft despite all of that. He's seen the destruction those hands have caused first hand, and yet his fingers almost intertwine with Herman's so gently, so perfectly-
"Feeling bold today, Commander?"
Charles snaps back into the present, his eyes meeting Herman's storm grey ones before he's forced to look away - he can never seem to hold his gaze, not when his general looks at him like that - and only then does he realize what he's done.
They had been walking down the fortress' halls, away from the army's gaze, and Charles could barely recall Herman discussing battle formations for their next conquest before he got distracted by the motions of his hands as he spoke, wondering what it would be like to hold them.
He really wishes he had some sugar right now.
"Had there been any witnesses, I could've easily ripped your arm off right now for insubordination, soldier."
Herman speaks so calmly, as if he were speaking about the weather instead. Yet Charles knows better than anyone that his general speaks the truth; he could easily crush him where he stands, make him disappear and have none of the other soldiers even question it.
He also knows him well enough to know that he won't. Not with him.
"Then I suppose I'm very lucky today, sir." He speaks openly, making sure to keep his tone neutral and respectful. His general always demands respect above all. This earns him a raised eyebrow from Herman, and to his surprise, a laugh as well.
His hand is held tighter, fingers intertwined like two pieces of a puzzle.
"I suppose you're right." Herman hums contentendly; "very lucky, indeed."