"Looking good for the public, huh? Right. Yeah...And what a heck of a first impression I'll make now, with all of these..."
He tries to shake off the jitters, ridiculous as it is to feel it as his age, after all he's been through...
But the more they speak, the more he can't ignore it. That this was all a way to show him that they loved him? The affection that takes over him, the desire to share just a little bit more of himself, is easier now than ever before. He keeps recluse, his story kept locked up at the deepest place he can find. These two didn't deserve his solitude, though. What is charisma in the face of the true; the authentic? It warranted the same, Roland thinks. Whatever stopped him before no longer exists. Should they ask him of anything, he rather thinks it would take only the slightest efforts on either of their part to make him concede. Such is the strength of this sentiment - and more, built up through time however short it has been for all of them. And as Inigo wraps his arms around Roland tightly, he leans to the side for a brief moment in reciprocation, eyes still glazed and staring at the pile of gifts before him. In particular, his free hand drifts to the cufflinks, then to the ribbons.
He takes it back. He does remember. So he shares it to them, freely given from his own pool of love.
"My wife was the last person who gave me a gift." Roland goes, no trace of sadness in his voice. Just fond nostalgia. "That was a long time ago, too. She gave me something similar, something I could use at work. And when I asked her why, she said 'Just because.'" He chuckles, now switching his attention to the oils, in varying shades of opaque. "That was before she...And now I...With you two, and these..." An implication, though Inigo knew already. That the last person who cared about him just because, who remembered him just because, has long gone. Yet here he is, remnants of a time past coming back to remind him that no matter what, he will never fall far. That perhaps, in every world he is fated to visit, the love will follow him there too.
He flashes them both a wide, toothy grin that makes him look the way his body presents itself: young, vibrant. Full of life. He glances at Inigo first by proximity, then Tidus. "Thanks." He says, thick with emotion. "I really like it."
Roland continues to smile as excitement grows, blossoms innocently. He takes the blue ribbon out of its tie and hands it carefully to Inigo. "Can you help me tie it on?" Should he agree to help, Roland will then move on to Tidus next, twisting the lid of the rose-scented lotion and offering that to him with a careful nudge, making sure nothing spilled over. "Teach me how to use it?"
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He tries to shake off the jitters, ridiculous as it is to feel it as his age, after all he's been through...
But the more they speak, the more he can't ignore it. That this was all a way to show him that they loved him? The affection that takes over him, the desire to share just a little bit more of himself, is easier now than ever before. He keeps recluse, his story kept locked up at the deepest place he can find. These two didn't deserve his solitude, though. What is charisma in the face of the true; the authentic? It warranted the same, Roland thinks. Whatever stopped him before no longer exists. Should they ask him of anything, he rather thinks it would take only the slightest efforts on either of their part to make him concede. Such is the strength of this sentiment - and more, built up through time however short it has been for all of them. And as Inigo wraps his arms around Roland tightly, he leans to the side for a brief moment in reciprocation, eyes still glazed and staring at the pile of gifts before him. In particular, his free hand drifts to the cufflinks, then to the ribbons.
He takes it back. He does remember. So he shares it to them, freely given from his own pool of love.
"My wife was the last person who gave me a gift." Roland goes, no trace of sadness in his voice. Just fond nostalgia. "That was a long time ago, too. She gave me something similar, something I could use at work. And when I asked her why, she said 'Just because.'" He chuckles, now switching his attention to the oils, in varying shades of opaque. "That was before she...And now I...With you two, and these..." An implication, though Inigo knew already. That the last person who cared about him just because, who remembered him just because, has long gone. Yet here he is, remnants of a time past coming back to remind him that no matter what, he will never fall far. That perhaps, in every world he is fated to visit, the love will follow him there too.
He flashes them both a wide, toothy grin that makes him look the way his body presents itself: young, vibrant. Full of life. He glances at Inigo first by proximity, then Tidus. "Thanks." He says, thick with emotion. "I really like it."
Roland continues to smile as excitement grows, blossoms innocently. He takes the blue ribbon out of its tie and hands it carefully to Inigo. "Can you help me tie it on?" Should he agree to help, Roland will then move on to Tidus next, twisting the lid of the rose-scented lotion and offering that to him with a careful nudge, making sure nothing spilled over. "Teach me how to use it?"