[If he's surprised this time, it's only at how warm the young saniwa's hand feels in his, not just through his gloves but somewhere deeper, like a spark coming to life and finally catching on the tinder. He doesn't quite know what to make of it but it does prompt him to lace his fingers with the other, less like a holding onto a child and more like equals.]

Our citadel huh. [He considers it carefully. Were they not more or less all the same? That's the impression he got from the fleeting times they would come together for training with their provincial neighbors. But of course their experiences, the thing that mattered most, could vary wildly, to infinite ends and with infinite results.]

It is quite lively. Aruji allows us a great deal of freedom, such that he remains something of an enigma himself. He pretends not to know all the trouble we get up to. [He smirks. As if any of them really fell for that.] Fortunately we keep ourselves occupied with plenty of trouble. We even held our own festival recently. Everyone performed the songs and dances of their homes which was quite the ah... intercultural experience.

[Though he skimps on the details—really, how interesting was the minutiae of their missions or daily lives—as he goes on he speaks with a great deal of affection for the citadel that has become his home and perhaps that makes up for how he glosses over the question about his saniwa. Honestly, he had no idea where he stood on that front.]