[ Oh, it's a pang in his chest when she says his name. He hasn't had many that knew his name. He is Jon, to her, and that helps bring him back down.

It's... strange, and difficult, to regain a human sort of groundedness. He has to let go of the expansive, freeing power of it. He has to cram himself back down into a cramped, brittle little body and mindset and emotional state. Into the limited here-and-now. A part of him always hates it.

But her voice is so small, and so young.

Jon swallows, and steps away— steps back, a respectful distance, gives her space. He breathes for a moment, trying to regain himself. He doesn't want to focus on the guilt, but he needs to. He knows that he needs to. It's painful, and bracing, and it helps wake him up. ]

I'm sorry. [ It sounds a little rough around the edges, and a lot more human. ] I'm... sorry for asking so many questions. For, for— for making you talk about it. I'm so sorry that happened to you. It's horrible.

[ He's not sure he means it the way he should. He's not sure he's feeling it the right way, right now. But she's so young. He can regret doing this to her, at least. And—

Martin.

He can regret letting Martin down, too. ]