He doesn't move, doesn't breathe from his perch upon the wastelands. The now-paled, now-bloodied SOLDIER simply stares out into the distance, head turned from Cloud and black hair lightly flowing in the wind. The most amount of life you'll get, mister ex-SOLDIER sir.

Why should he respond? What has Cloud done for him? He didn't even exist for a long while and that shouldn't earn the other's respect. Zack Fair's legacy was just as ruined at the sword in the ground, the sunflowers molded and wilted in the dirt. Blood drips steadily down to the rotted plants, landing upon them but disappearing almost immediately. It's a slow trickle at first, but then the crimson begins gushing out.

Maybe you'll trip and get it on your face again.

Maybe that would be enough to remind you.