This is...unexpected. They haven't talked about it, no more than they truly sit down to talk about Alejandro's arm. The two are hardly equivalent but all the same, it is not what they do. They talk of work, of home, never anything too weighty.

But this gift? This sentiment? It has weight.

Comfortable as he has become with leaving the eye open most days- there are times when he would rather hide everything. He slips the patch on, smiling a little at the fit. It gives him an excuse to look away as he straightens the band among his hair and braids. "The Crows caught up with me, as I always assumed. What was a surprise was...people came to save me. During the fight out Alistair was helping me walk and not minding his flank. A Crow came up behind and it was a choice of his throat or my face."

He gestures to the scars, the eye under the patch. Alejandro could likely remember well his vanity, his pride. "I chose my face."