[He was foolish, Yuan wants to say, but he had no other choice; or the only choice that was open to him otherwise was a dark and quiet thing, something to which he would not consign himself.]

[Yuan is not about to argue with the Tethe'allan king, and bites down anything that might come out of his mouth. Here, at least, there is more familiar, solid ground. The king does not like him. Yuan is used to being disliked by people in power. He will simply have to be twice as good.]

[But nothing... comes of it. Yuan considers that perhaps he owes Kratos's sister some gesture of thanks, and then decides that he might, if he was not in the middle of a deeply uncomfortably naked situation. The naked cancels out everything else.]

[The conversation... continues, and Yuan is almost part of it. He doesn't volunteer anything, but he's talked to, now and then, and it feels sort of like he's slipping into the conversation rather than hovering at the outskirts like Kratos's slave follower. Old war injuries, well--]

So what's the worst you've had, then?

[And Yuan hesitates, making sure it's him being addressed, and can't help the very faint quirk of his mouth as he gestures at Kratos.]

A clean through stab. Here.

[And he's indicated the spot before he can stop himself, because plenty of people in his unit know the story and wanted to know how serious it was, and he's used to wearing clothes when he talks about it. Damn. Hastily:]

He's left more lasting marks than any other.

[Hurry up and look at Kratos again.]