It's not the question he expected, honestly. Qrow had imagined it would start with "what happened?", perhaps, or maybe an inquiry into how their family dynamic was set up. After all, he is addressed as "uncle", and yet he looks nothing like the glimpse of Taiyang that Paul might have caught when Qrow went to tell their father where he was going. The girls, themselves, look somewhat different. Simple questions, about the facts of the situation, would've been much easier to start things off.

Does it get better is such a complicated, loaded question. Neither yes nor no are fully accurate nor inaccurate. Summer is gone. Tai eventually recovered enough from the loss to be their father again. Qrow spent the last decade struggling to hold himself above water, alcohol seemingly the last piece of driftwood in an endless ocean of despair. The war is unwinnable. Ruby has silver eyes.

(Atlas has fallen. The girls might both be dead. Qrow tries desperately not to think about it.)

After a long moment, he looks up from his lap where Ruby sleeps, out into the distance.

"Depends what you mean by 'better', I guess." He lets a shoulder raise and fall in a vague, noncommittal shrug. "You've met Ruby. She's become a tough, confident young woman, an incredible huntress. Couldn't be prouder of her. It's the same with Yang. But..."

He busies himself for a moment with unwrapping his own sandwich; it's difficult to find the words, really.

"You know how it is, I'm sure."

Nobody who has that particular posture in response to a change in threat assessment hasn't known grief, doesn't bear those scars. It's a universal among those who've spent their lives fighting.

"It's never the same again, not really."