What could we possibly have to discuss? It seems I know nothing about you, after all. It only stands to reason, then, that you could know nothing about me.

[The answers they sought together, the impossible battles she had miraculously guided them through, the resolve they shared--in her eyes, they never happened, did they? He's merely an enemy soldier, to be struck down and then spared--perhaps the one moment of compassion she may have shown during the entire campaign of brutal conquest that she commanded.

The soft thump of Byleth's sword hitting the sand is ignored. He should ignore that plea just as soundly, now that he's certain they have nothing to do with each other. So why is he hesitating?]

I'm not the man whose life you spared, General. And you're not the woman I serve. Perhaps we should leave it at that.