[It must touch a nerve, the talk of Titans, and why wouldn't it? Paul will let the subject drop, though he notes the contrast of the boy's pride at being praised for helping, and he doesn't care for this feeling, the one that keeps catching at his ribs and tightening his chest. It's not directed at Falco, but somehow past him, or around him, a sense of - he falls short again, uncertain.

So a change of topic, then. Paul considers his answer, rubbing a thumb over the backs of his knuckles.]

I was trained to be. My House - that's what we call our families, where I come from, although they're bigger than most families - had a standing army. The best in the empire.

[He doesn't sound proud either. Paul is quiet for another long moment after that.]

How old were you?