[ With considerably less hesitation on his end, Casval takes the hand. It's warm and small in the cold grip of his glove, meant for sealing business proposals, greeting his comrades-in-arms. But today, in this moment, it's reserved for meeting a boy. Banagher Links. ]
My name is...
[ Well, most people seemed to know his name already. Less of a name and more of a garbled address all run together by the media, Captain Casval Mass, former pilot of the RAF, renowned British politician and foreign dignitary. The stripping away of identities in favor of titles that no longer held meaning, only old comforts. Hints of what he once was.
Maybe this time, it could be different. ]
...Casval.
[ Maybe this time, someone would understand. Even if they were only just a boy. ]
no subject
My name is...
[ Well, most people seemed to know his name already. Less of a name and more of a garbled address all run together by the media, Captain Casval Mass, former pilot of the RAF, renowned British politician and foreign dignitary. The stripping away of identities in favor of titles that no longer held meaning, only old comforts. Hints of what he once was.
Maybe this time, it could be different. ]
...Casval.
[ Maybe this time, someone would understand. Even if they were only just a boy. ]