"Funny how everyone seems noble after they die, even the ones you didn't like. War changes that pretty quickly." His hand drifted out of his lap and reached for hers, taking her fingers gently in his.
"Fighting for no reason creates chaos. Fighting for something, yes, you're still doing damage, but you sleep better at night. Sometimes. Other times, you look at what you accomplish and you wonder if any of it was worth it." His expression grew distant again, still holding her hand.
"Because every village you enter, every hostage or native under the ruler of a dictator you save, there are countless more. And you do your job, you get them safe, but you have to move on, because there are always more." His mind was suddenly filled with the faces of those that he'd seen, voice soft. "But every time you leave, you can't shake the feeling that it just might go back to the way it used to be."
Phil actually shivered, half out of reaction to his memories, and the other half to shake himself from them. He looked at her again, fingers tightening around hers, for his own comfort, not hers. "But we had a job. And we did it. That's all."