[Soldat tilts their head a little at Javert, expressionless and looking for signs that their handler might change his mind, before nodding once and unwrapping the opal, letting it rest on their metal palm in the optimum place for crushing, and closing their fist tightly, servos whining. There's a cracking sound, then a crunch, and then the opal is a bunch of tiny, harmless pieces of stone and dust.]

Some memories you don't want to relieve. I understand.