[He closes his eyes, and counts to five slowly — simply to keep himself from bowing under the weight of what happened in his world. Lord, give him strength to endure — forgive him for being so lost, and help him to cope, because... He can't... It's so hard to think of these things for long.]

He was a good friend... It was only right to be the best I could be, for him as well.

[His voice cracks a little, as he sinks into his cloak and stares holes into the tablecloth. His hands shiver in their large sleeves. What is this sudden wave of misery that clutches his heart so terribly? He feels if he doesn't focus on the tea set out before him with all his might, he may lose the ability to breathe.]

... I would not have reason to call for him again.

He — he passed recently, defending us from harm.

[He hasn't faced it. Any of it. It's too much.]