(Well, no one's putting up with Martel, have you any idea how long it's been.)

Sometimes, he can pretend that this is his new normalcy; he lies habitually with every introduction, but he leads a mostly quiet life, wryly aware that his conflicts began and ended with the Pandion Order and, accordingly, with his own death- he has no one left to fight but himself and he is so tired. There is no one here to remind him of his guilt and so he does it for them, hating his own reflection and pretending a steadiness that by his own recent admission he does not and cannot trust. It isn't his morals that concern him (he knows which way the compass points, he's never forgotten that) even as he recognizes the danger of both apathy and habit, but it is his mind that eroded in ways he isn't sure he even now fully understands. He carries the weight of his mistakes and it doesn't matter here in a way that does him no real favours.

It's disconcerting and a little depressing to realize that Balthier and some obnoxiously-named animals are all he has, so he says: "If it's ever you or the cat, you know where my loyalty will lie."

...he was never made to be alone.