That's right. [ It's an empty reassurance, an automatic thing. The guilt is still a distant, nebulous sort of hurt, and he finds himself more distressed by that than by the guilt itself. Guilt is human. He needs it.

He tries to find the part of his mind still able to ache with horror, and leans into it, like poking a broken tooth. He thinks of Martin. It hurts. Good. ]

Thank you, Kaya. For telling me. Stories like these are... very valuable for me to hear.

[ When he shifts away again, he realizes the difference: no tug of an invisible thread between them. He is free.

Ha.

Yes, that would do it, wouldn't it. Further proof that the Web is behind the wheels. That something, somewhere, is pulling his strings with intent. ]

I think I can go, now, if you'd like to be alone.