[He's unprepared for that question, as the alcohol makes him think, much to his chagrin. It's supposed to do the opposite. There are people he misses for no little reason at all- Men he barely knew, people he had only passed in combat- Their faces blurred but their voices oddly familiar.
Sakamoto has always been the gentle sort. Loss strikes a chord with him even if he'd like it not to. Just the same way he feels joy when he sees a smiling couple on the street, he feels sorrow when a stranger in his midst sheds a tear.
He folds his hands on the tabletop, resting his chin on warm, reddening skin.
This overwhelming feeling makes him think about many people at odd hours of the day, but there is one person he yearns to see every minute.]
Mutsu.
[Quietly, with clarification. He'll be back to his normal gusto in a minute, but he needs this.
no subject
Sakamoto has always been the gentle sort. Loss strikes a chord with him even if he'd like it not to. Just the same way he feels joy when he sees a smiling couple on the street, he feels sorrow when a stranger in his midst sheds a tear.
He folds his hands on the tabletop, resting his chin on warm, reddening skin.
This overwhelming feeling makes him think about many people at odd hours of the day, but there is one person he yearns to see every minute.]
Mutsu.
[Quietly, with clarification. He'll be back to his normal gusto in a minute, but he needs this.
It is healthy, sometimes, to feel sad.]
Mine.