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((The Mon/Wen/Fri Double -- page 1 of 2))
He would just have to do his best to take care of it, he supposed. Much as it concerned him, Hector certainly wasn't about to stop wearing the Scarf in battle for its own protection. The whole point of it was to aid him in battle, and it had to hang freely over his armor in order to function properly. He'd tried tucking more of it in, but he found that it became less effective.

Which only made sense, he supposed. Its power was undoubtedly linked rather closely to its surface area. The more that was exposed, the more it could help him sense.

He parted ways with Zeff when the man's children came to greet him in Warrenhold's main plaza. Marcos and Ramira Elroy were strange kids, to be sure. Before departing with their father, Ramira offered Hector a high-five for some reason, and Marcos, a polite bow--which he found somehow even more weird.

But he was glad that they seemed to be in good spirits, at least. Ramira's foot injury all the way back in Dunehall was still mending, and unaided, she was largely immobile. Zeff seemed only too happy to have her in his arms or on his shoulders, and Marcos could often be seen pushing her around in her wheelchair or following close behind her when she was on crutches.

Marcos had worried him a bit, too. The boy's shyness was something that Hector could intensely relate to, and his apparent melancholy, even more so. Garovel said that the poor kid had been having nightmares ever since his mother's death.

They'd been through so much. Hector wished he could do more for them. They were his "cousins," after all, via Garovel and Chergoa's relation.

How the heck were you supposed to cheer kids up, though? Toys? Food? He was pretty sure they already had plenty of those things.

Eh, he was being stupid. He knew perfectly well those things wouldn't actually help them. Superficial things only helped superficially. If there was one thing Hector knew in life, it was that.