The assessment earns a little snort of agreement, lips twitching up slightly as Maine shrugs a shoulder. He hasn't been fighting as long as some, but that's through no fault of his own. After all, he has no control over when he was born. It's been long enough to leave a permanent mark on him. Long enough that he can't imagine what he'd do if he didn't have an enemy to fight.
When it comes to answering Brigitte's question about his age, however, Maine visibly hesitates. Not because he's ashamed of it, or because he's bothered by Brigitte guessing several years over the mark. (Maine knows what he looks like, and it's not young.) He hesitates because it's the one thing he lied about for years, and he's still not accustomed to being able to tell the truth.
"... Fourteen," he answers, ignoring the weird surge of something like trepidation that crawls up his spine. His paperwork is fine, he reminds himself; he can say it. Then he adds, "Two years early."
That the minimum age of enlistment is sixteen certainly says something about the state of his universe. Then again, Maine did say that humanity is losing a war against genocidal aliens.
just in case: cw for child soldier
When it comes to answering Brigitte's question about his age, however, Maine visibly hesitates. Not because he's ashamed of it, or because he's bothered by Brigitte guessing several years over the mark. (Maine knows what he looks like, and it's not young.) He hesitates because it's the one thing he lied about for years, and he's still not accustomed to being able to tell the truth.
"... Fourteen," he answers, ignoring the weird surge of something like trepidation that crawls up his spine. His paperwork is fine, he reminds himself; he can say it. Then he adds, "Two years early."
That the minimum age of enlistment is sixteen certainly says something about the state of his universe. Then again, Maine did say that humanity is losing a war against genocidal aliens.