Felix was leant against his door by the river in some tropical paradise in the Seven Skies. He smiled fondly at all of the memories of Sebastian Bishop, that crazy, wild-eyed Waldenian. "Vy were as quick with a joke as vy were with a punch to the face, vy old bastard." He spoke to himself as a smile broke upon the features of his face further still. Yet, Sebastian was without a doubt one of the finest soldiers Felix ever had the pleasure of both commanding and serving under.
Sebastian was rock-solid in his resolve, all the way to his soul. Felix never knew him to question, disobey an order or make little snide remarks. He just did his duty. Even when he was in command, he didn't prance about like some fat, useless whelp lording over everyone as he had known a few disgraceful officers to do. No. He was still that same soldier. He'd never send a man into a situation that he wasn't willing to go in, he never, ever dishonored the trust of his men and he was throughout his entire career above all things: His comrade.
And now Felix hoped that the old man would finally find peace in this new life of eternal sunshine and ever-overflowing barrels of scotch, whiskey and the good old Black. Felix, a fellow old man, certainly knew he had.
Though, even in this new life, he had not drank. He made a promise.
"...Krusae zwy Kongzem. Rest well, brother." He stood, and saluted the sky above.