scratched lenses of my knockoff ray-bans

It seemed that he slammed back down into his own skin, and Halo felt guilty for bringing about such a reaction. Still, it was important. Her gaze was incredibly soft on the Warlord's face, peering up at him. Gently, Halo reached out with intent to set a delicate, pale paw on his. For the first time, she closed the gap, she initiated contact. The gravity of the action was something that she couldn't put into words, and it carried weight coming from the timid creature. "Sirius," for the moment, Halo says only his name. It's a plea more than anything. A tender plea.

"I trust you." Though it was clear to her that, in this regard, he didn't trust himself. "And I trust myself," though the words are quiet, they are unyielding. "I'm going to help you." Within Halo, determination wasn't in short supply. It's a different shade than that of his warriors, yes, but there's no doubt that it lives within her. "We can sort out the details, but I'm going to help you. I promise." Maybe she couldn't fix the Warlord, but she could make things easier. She could make things better. Halo was bound and determined to try.
"Halo"