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The Moebius armour feels safe. Though lightweight, it's far more durable than anything N has ever worn in his time as a common soldier. Even Blades leave nary a scratch on the plating. At the same time, it doesn't hinder his movement at all, having been tailored to his proportions. Such marvel of engineering, this armour.
It becomes his everyday wear, not only while on duty but in private as well. Why put on lesser garments? No, this is just fine. He still takes it off for sleeping, of course, but beyond that, it becomes akin to a second skin.
A millennium later, he finds himself experiencing the world through Noah's senses. It all feels exactly as he's used to, until Mio takes Noah's hand.
Her hand is warm, almost unbearably so. Why does it startle him? He's held M's hand countless times...
When was the last time she had touched his bare hand? The last time anyone but himself touched his bare skin?
He doesn't remember.
Noah grasps Mio's hand tightly, and N doesn't know if it's mockery or not. But even if it's not his hand, maybe... maybe he can relish that warmth for a little while, too.