He tries to read through this, knows the choreographed hesitations well enough that Roland can’t ignore it this time. Nevermind that his interest is piqued with the radio tinkered with; a way to ask for help, or at least, to receive some when the time comes. (Nevermind, too, that even the idea of help is beyond their agency, that they have to wait to be contacted first.)

“Of course I’ll keep trying. Never said I’d stop.” I never will. But that’s why-

-a hand, serious and warm, rests upon Tidus’s shoulder. The dip in Roland’s brow speaks volumes.

“Please, Tidus. Promise me.”

Don’t let this be for nothing.