Ah. More thoughts into words. The cloth that Dedue had wrapped around his hands is becoming cool, and the moments that he takes to unwrap it and set it aside are ones that he can also use to collect his thoughts.

“It comes naturally to me.”

In thoughts that even he rarely entertains, there has been the passing consideration that his stern and stoic demeanor may not be entirely nature— that there may be some element of nurture to it, fostered out of both need and purpose. But even if that is so, there’s little to be done about it, and there’s little gain in rumination over the immutable.

“I find that words are often… inadequate.” There is a hint of something on his face that may have been a rueful smile, there and gone again. “I am not a master of them. With particularly difficult matters, I suppose I choose my battles judiciously.”