There was an unspoken bond of trust between the Torchbearer and you. Always was. From the very beginning.

Therefore, the question of preparing each other for the fight against Dema did not even arise. Josh, as he allowed you to call him, spread yellow paint over your face, drawing intricate shapes that emphasized your features.

Your paranoia before the battle never left you. Yes, there will be deaths, but you don't really want to be among them, do you?

Torch noticed this with a sigh, his features softening as he stopped his hand from painting.