Their patrol had turned into a game of twenty questions rather quickly. It was only expected, seeing as they never bothered to get personal with each other before. But now that they had the apparent footholds of friendship starting to form beneath them, they wasted no time going through all the social formalities that came with it. Henry's fingers trailed along the jet black feathers of a crow's wing, and he seemed like the most content person in the world as he asked his questions in the calmest manner possible—all while stroking the inky plume of his favorite animal in existence.

He started off slow, of course, asking little things like "What's your favorite color?" and "Have you ever had a pet?" as icebreakers. Even though they were comfortable enough to speak to each other at a deeper level than that, Henry knew that they needed to create a common ground before getting to the good stuff. More personal, biting inquiries were waiting to be said, but they remained unasked in the darkest corners of the Plegian's mind. He smiled carefully as he waited for the Ylissean's answers.

"My favorite color is probably...orange?" Gaius quipped, referencing his hair in all obviousness. "Actually, I think it's black or green. Maybe blue. I've never really thought about it before."

"Mine is purple," Henry said. "And black, and blue, and gold, and red, and silver, and—"

"So, like, all of them?"

"Yes."

Gaius scoffed, and shook his head at Henry's nonsense. Despite that, he was quite grateful for the small banter between them. Because other than that, the day was exceedingly peaceful, and there were no signs of immediate trouble. None of the usual enemies today, he thought as they walked. Looks like they must have heard the news about those bandits from before. It's better that they stay away, anyway. Serves 'em all right.

"And pets?" Henry piped up, interrupting the other's train of thought. "Did you ever have a pet before?"

"Nope. It's hard enough to take care of yourself without worrying about someone else, too. You gotta treat animals with respect, don't ya? So they've been out of the question for me since I was a kid." A sad but true fact elucidated itself, and the assassin was not better or worse for it. He just accepted it for what it was. "I think it's too late to have pets now, and I'm not so keen on the idea of having a steed."

"That's too bad. I love animals! Especially these birdies. I've always had the crows by my side~ They really like me! And I used to be close to a wolf, too." The words came out too quickly and Henry couldn't modify them as he wanted to. He froze in his place and pretended that his crow was too fussy so he didn't have to elaborate. Gaius saw through this, however, and pressed forward on the matter.

"A wolf? Those things are the definition of wild animals, y'know. How'd you get close to one?" Gaius asked, genuine curiosity rolling off his tongue. Henry really didn't want to answer him, but he didn't want to ignore him, either. He thought for a moment before deciding what to say.

"I was young when I met her. I was lost in the woods one day, and she took care of me. Never went back to my old life after that." It wasn't a total lie, yet it wasn't the complete truth, either. But he knew it was better than recounting that horrid and loving story of a wolf mother that took him in as her own. He knew it was better to keep everything under wraps, lest the same blind rage from that day find itself needling into his body once more. He knew it would dredge up something vile and insipid—something that he kept drowned in the murky waters of his mind up until this point. He could feel the surface rippling and struggled to keep it at bay. They were those same murderous feelings from before—the same haze and darkness that took hold of him the moment he saw the wolf (his mother's) dead body at the hands of those paranoid villagers. They all ostracized him, they all hated him, they all wanted him to suffer and die and—

He was getting ahead of himself, now, almost drowning in the memories he dredged up unknowingly. His whole body shook at the mere thought of it, but he hid the worst of the trembling within the crevices of his cape. His own fear kept him tethered to reality, and he pretended to be alright when Gaius asked him if he missed her. "Yeah, I miss her a lot, sometimes. But it's over now."

"Aw, that sucks," was all he could think to say in response. "At least you made some good memories with her. I can't even imagine..."

"Anyway, I've wanted to ask you this ever since I met you. Why do you like sweets so much? Doesn't it just make you sick sometimes?"

"Oh, Junior." Gaius lamented, and shook his head back-and-forth in disappointment. "Oh, you poor and naive little Junior. Don't you know that sweets are the best things to walk this earth since...I don't know, us? I mean, what's there to not like about desserts? They taste great, they feel great, and they are great. I just love them to bits and that's all there is to it." He conveniently left out the fact that sweets were the easiest type of food to steal, and they allowed him to survive some of the worst years of his life in streets.

"Boring~" Henry mused, setting the crow down on the ground where it hopped away playfully before taking flight. He waved it goodbye before continuing to speak. "Here I was, thinking that maybe you lost a bet to someone and had to eat only sweets for the rest of your life. That would have been way cooler than whatever you just told me."

"It would have been a lie," Gaius retorted. "But I wish someone could force me to only eat sweets forever. Then I'd be satisfied for the rest of my life."

"I doubt it," Henry snickered, and brought up a hand up to cover his mouth dramatically. "You'd get sick and die within the first two weeks. Maybe the first three weeks if you're lucky."

"I'll give up sweets when I'm dead," he reassured, smirking at his own sly rebuke. "Listen, I'm no greenie. I know when to call it quits. But until then, there's no reason not to partake in life's greatest treasure. Speaking of which..."

Gaius took out some chocolate bars from his pocket, and offered one to Henry. The sorcerer hesitated, as if the assassin was offering him some mutated fish head, instead. He eventually reached out and grabbed the candy, however—and started unwrapping it from its paper casing. He broke off a piece of it with a delicious snap, then placed it into his mouth and let it melt.

It was really, really good. He recognized the packaging from Gaius' secret candy stash, the same one that he tampered with all those days and weeks ago. It seemed like an eternity since then, and while Henry had eaten this treat before, it tasted much sweeter now. Perhaps his newly rekindled relationship with Gaius was the source of such sweetness, or maybe it was because they were starting to know each other past their deadliness and fighting prowess, and they were becoming more and more familiar with the people beneath their own facades.

Of course, if that was the real reason for the sweetness brimming in his mouth, then Henry could never truly admit it. His heart was a pure steel fortress that had reinforced itself exponentially over the years, so it wouldn't be easy to really let someone in, and no person had successfully done it before. Even Ricken, his closest friend and confidant, was unknowing of the darkest secrets that Henry kept to himself. The darkness which festered within him was an eternally open wound with no chance to ever heal.

So although Gaius was not the first person to try and infiltrate Henry's heart, he was the one with the best chance of even getting there in the first place. And to this, Henry grinned from ear to ear, giving a thumbs up in response to having eaten Gaius' chocolate without fail.

"Not bad," he said. "But I think we both know that you can do way better than that."

.

.

.

There was something worse than long marches or sleepless nights in the Shepherds' camp. There were things more dreadful than being killed by enemy soldiers or destroyed by mindless Risen, alike. And certainly, there was something that put every excruciating, agonizing, and torturous experience in the book to shame. Gaius felt this terrifying sensation in question, as he was stuck in that exact same situation as he spoke to Henry, with every last ounce of his willpower screaming for escape from the hellish situation.

He was stuck in a game of pleasantries. But not just any pleasantries, they were the "get to know you better" pleasantries. What started off as a few innocuous questions soon turned into a back-and-forth relay of annoying inquiries, those which asked Gaius everything from his hobbies to his habits. Henry talked like a rapid fire storm, and the cruel lilt in his voice was reminiscent of an archer's continuous arrows shooting out into the wind. Whenever Gaius dodged one question, he had to answer another. Every time he divulged the sorcerer with his personal life, he was bombarded by even more queries.

"Childhood dream?"

"To eat every kind of cake in the whole world."

"Favorite weapon?"

"A silver sword that I forged myself. It broke in the last battle, though."

"How many lumps of sugar do you put in your tea?"

"At least six. If the tea was made by either Twinkles or Stumbles, then I add at least ten."

"Role model?"

"Myself."

"Favorite thing to do during the summer?"

"Crivens, I don't know. Swimming?"

"How many—"

"Cut it out already!" Gaius snapped, swerving on his heels to face Henry and burn the annoyance from his own eyes to his. This was the hundredth question asked already, and he didn't know how much of this Henry had left in him. If he asked any more trivial questions, Gaius would have no choice but to shut him up forcefully, or run away so as to escape the dread of this conversation.

He was almost as annoying as a burnt rhubarb pie, which was pretty annoying in Gaius' book.

"Aw, how come?" Henry was oblivious to the stress he was causing, as each question only fueled his innate curiosity further and further. To him, this was the same as breathing or drinking water. These formalities were essential to his being, and he felt his heart thrum wildly against his chest because of it. What would it feel like to be deprived of what he usually needed? Would he curl up and die? Would he live thrice as strong? The thought excited and scared him all at once. Then he spoke in a newly softened voice: "What's wrong? They're just harmless questions."

"They're harmless if you ask a few of them," Gaius corrected him. "But if you ask hundreds of them in a row it gets real old, real quick." He huffed out indignantly, leaning forward so as to impose his height and weight on the shorter and thinner Plegian. It was a classic technique of intimidation, but Henry seemed unaffected by any of it as he replied rather casually.

"I'm just trying to get to know you better~ Is there anything wrong with that? You're the one that wanted a fresh start!" A widespread grin appeared on his face where a small smile had been before, and the ends of it stretched so far that Gaius thought Henry's face would break apart. "Once I'm done, you can ask me some questions to even it out, okay?"

"I hate it when you're right," Gaius grumbled. "Which is hardly ever, by the way. But I'll let you have your cake, and eat it too. Just don't ask the common stuff. I already told you my favorite everything! My favorite animal, color, food, song, poem, dessert, recipe, weapon, name, flower—all of it! If you want to know something, ask something worth knowing."

"Okay." He mumbled under his breath, a bit pressured by the demand given to him. Then he came up talkative again, this time with a new resolve. "Let's see...this is interesting to start with! Do you have a family? Do you have anyone waiting for you back at home?" The question was the most tolerable one so far, despite its personal roots. The way Henry asked it made him sound like he was genuinely concerned with Gaius' life. And the curiosity was so strong, it manifested in one of Henry's cuter habits: a head tilt to the right, and a surprised look on his stupidly cute face. "Or are you alone?"

Gaius hesitated, lean figure relaxing after having been tense from the needless question-asking for so long. Now this was something that he could work with. This was something that was meaningful and would be useful, should he choose divulge the information at hand at all. While he was certainly not the type to give everything away at once (hardly fitting of a sneaky thief like him), he would be civil and let a few secrets here and there go out for free. Besides, in a period of war, it was only natural to think of the civilians back home. Should the two of them make it through this seemingly endless campaign, then the historians and gossipers would pry this information out from them, anyway.

Feeling alright with giving some personal information away, Gaius cleared his throat before speaking.

"I don't have a family," he simply said. "Growing up, it was just me and my parents. I was an only child, so once they died, I was on my own. I've had lots of encounters on the way, but no one that I would seriously consider my family. 'Sides, family's a big deal to keep up with. It's way easier if you've only got yourself to watch out for. Family types like Chrom and Lissa? They're awfully loyal and sweet and nice and all, but they won't last outside on their own. They need each other, yeah? I'm nothing like that. If I can turn over a profit at the end of this war, then—hey!—even better for me." He spoke so easily, casually, and calmly that Henry almost, almost, almost believed him.

But he couldn't continue to pretend like that explanation was convincing, and so he made that sentiment clear as day. "I don't really believe you, actually." There was a big grin on his face, which contrasted against the near-deadpan in his voice. "I don't believe you're that selfish, or whatever. But it's too bad about the family situation. It'd be funny if there were a bunch of identical gingers patiently waiting for you to return home!" The thought of this fantastical scenario alone was enough to humor Henry, and he couldn't refrain from laughing at the idea.

Gaius chuckled. "Huh. You're a strange kid, alright. But I guess you knew that already." He simply reaffirmed the statement aloud just to hear himself say it. After that, Gaius reflected the question back at Henry, deciding it was high time to get some information about his personal life, instead. "So what about you, Junior? What's your family like?"

Frozen again. It was like someone hexed him to become immobile. He couldn't help it, though. Whenever he got stumped like this, the rest of him became as still as stone whilst his body caught up with his mind. There were many brief moments in time where he remembered his parents. He could see their visage in his head, and from his perspective they were ten feet tall and frightening. Their eyes were blank and unloving, and their fingers were harsh and cold. There was something in the way they stood that made him think otherwise, though. He just said they were tall and imposing, but now he felt like they were slouched, hunched over, and shorter than that. Why would the discrepancy exist in the first place, though? Was it because of human error in memory, or was he remembering the wrong people?

He hoped it was forgetfulness. It would hurt much less than whatever awful sensation settled in his stomach, now. He lurched forward, the sudden movement startling Gaius as it happened. There was a sort of faint wistfulness in his voice, too—a slight tilt in the way his words formed that sounded heavier and quieter than usual. "It was just my parents before. They didn't really care about me." The next sentences would have to be formed carefully—more carefully than anything else that formed in his life thus far. Henry swallowed the delay in his throat. "They dumped me at some orphanage when they decided they didn't want me anymore. I never saw them after that!"

The words hung in the air like fog. It was not a sentence, but a hefty weight that latched onto Gaius' chest and sunk him lower. It was a chilling, thick fog that sent a cold snap surging through his skin, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. There was no semblance of passion, anger, or disappointment in Henry's voice, either. There was only a dire confusion and blatant nonchalance that Gaius knew to be fabricated. There was no way that anyone could simply recite their horrific past like items on a shopping list, yet Henry did so all the same. He said the words "orphanage" and "parents" like they were "eggs" and "milk" instead.

Gaius couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it, because now he felt guilty for being so blunt. But could he help it, with all the incessant questions from before? In a way, he felt that Henry backed himself into that corner on his own, yet there was no fathomable reason why. Perhaps it was a subconscious cry for help. Maybe he meant to tell Gaius that all along, and just didn't know how to. Bully for him, then. He thought dryly. I didn't need to know that.

By the time Gaius could come up with a sensible response, it was too late. Henry already skipped ahead of him, visibly disinterested in his speechlessness as he went further and further down the path ahead. He checked under rocks and bushes for signs of strife, found none, and waved back to Gaius with an infuriatingly fake smile on his face. "No enemies here!" Henry said, utterly pleased with his work. "If you keep dilly-dallying, though, then they might just show up! The spies and all!" He swished and turned, cape flying out behind him like spread wings taking flight.

Gaius wasn't distracted by any of this. He knew he had crossed into personal territory, but Henry passed that point himself long ago. Was he that unsociable that he couldn't pick up on these cues when they appeared? Was he that unfamiliar with the idea that people could get so close—yet stay so far—from each other, and it would all end up the same? If that was the case, then Gaius would have to adjust to the role of Henry's guide in this emotional world, and teach him a thing or two about self-expression. He was called Gaius the Nimble and Gaius the Quick and many other nicknames, but there was one particular moniker that he loved leagues above the rest.

Steel-hearted Gaius. Gold Veins Gaius, The "That Guy Isn't Actually That Bad" Gaius. Personal, secret names he sometimes referred to himself arrogantly because he knew himself better than anyone else. He knew what kind of person he was, and what kind of person he came across others as. With that experience, more than anything else, he decided that Henry would become his apprentice in learning the ways of the human heart. He would know the anger, sadness, and happiness of it all, so long as Gaius was willing to teach him. He might as well, because Gaius didn't like feeling too many things at once, and so it wouldn't be so bad to split the sentimentality of everything between himself and someone else that needed it desperately. It could all be possible, as long as he was willing for it to happen.

And when olive-colored eyes stared wistfully at the prancing silhouette of a thin, wiry mess of a boy, they knew that they were more than just willing. They were wanting to do this. Following his heart instead of his head for once, Gaius sprinted down the paths, and called out to Henry with a voice full of color and hope.

"Worry about me, Junior! I'm a thousand times scarier than any stupid spy!"