Competition winner in a non-Scimitar contest.
Edward would speak to him, eventually. Any good dog would, and despite his obstinacy, the child could be trained.
But at least there was softness beneath the fear, and the eyes apologized to her for her pain, even when the lips did not.
Al's slightly hollow voice positively echoed with embarrassment but he bravely soldiered on...
"...Sir..." he tried, beginning to compose himself again. "Don't you think...ah...that this isn't very professional of either of us?"
A man can do terrible things in the name of his uniform--his leader, his service, his country. Then he spends the rest of his life going crazy or chasing penance.