"Yes," Gaius says, voice level, settling there on his knees, hands finding their rest on his thighs. A prim position, to say the least, but controlled and disciplined. The skin is still tender and healing - it will heal tight, stretch and burn, and need work to regain full mobility -- which will worsen as he heals, not improve. In a kinder place, he would be healed and given over to the chirugeons to regain his full fighting strength.

"My armor was irrepreably damaged," he explains, keeping his eyes dead ahead and his voice soft. "But no man of the Grand Companies of Eorzea did not know the mask of the Legatus of the XIVth. He would have killed me, had I not begged him stay his hand and hear the truth. Whatever madness took him in that moment, he listened and he believed."