[He's quiet. Question giving him pause. It's hard, to push pass the image of her cold dead body laying on the floor, the distinct smell of burning flesh. Still feels like it only happened yesterday for him. Not fifty years ago. All those precious moments with her, gone. He rubs his arms slightly. Could he speak of her without losing it?]

...She was a kind, warmhearted spirit. A friend. [The only one that even tried to reach him.] Yours reminded me of her in some ways. How she would offer her love unconditionally. Didn't matter who or what I was to her either. She just...treated me like I was another person, and we did things that friends would do together. [Even as it hurts to recall these memories, his expression softens. His happiest days were with her afterall.] I always looked forward to her visits. She made those days at the base more bearable.