[The urge again. To reach out, to comfort in some way, but his hands curl into fists, tightening, restraining himself. It sucks.]

...That doesn't surprise me, knowing you.

You have all that guilt on your shoulders. That weight you've been bearing for years, and probably more to come. I don't expect it to slip off of you in an instant.

I won't tell you what you want, or what I think you should want. But I'll do my best to do right by you, Vergilius.