[ He listens to Miles tell the story, letting it slot things into place. The pursuit of truth, yes, that's obvious. It makes the moments that Miles has allowed himself to enjoy, the softer ones, all the more precious in Nyx's mind.

There's sympathy, too. Nyx didn't like anything that involved fighting humans, even enemies. But they had met on a battlefield. What would it be like to live with condemning someone to prison or death because you truly believed you were doing the right thing, just to have it yanked out from under you?

He squeezes Miles's hand again when his fingers tighten, shifting a bit. His other hand moves to brush against Miles's leg through the blanket, fingers dragging in a back and forth motion that he hopes helps soothe.

He doesn't tell him it'll be okay because, well, they both know they can't change the past. And Miles hadn't offered platitudes to him. ]

That's pretty accurate, I think. He wasn't Galahdian, wasn't one of my dads and he was a hardass but.. he trained me, y'know? He gave us something to fight for.

[ He sighs. ]

I can't imagine facing something like what you went through. At least he just tried to stab me.

[ A beat. ]

Shit, we need better ment-enemies.