[ After the repeated dia doses, the burns have shrunk away to nothing, though he still looks wan and troubled beneath it all. It's not like they need to act tough around each other, and Ann is an especially attuned listener, as sensitive as she is fiery. But it's difficult to figure out what to say, and how to say it—he gently shakes off her hand, sinking back against the couch. ]

Worse than I could have anticipated.

[ He fusses idly with the now-defunct bandages, smoothing them into folds where they've fallen in his lap, as though keeping his hands busy might sort out his mind at the same time. Finally, ] They were... tortured. Some of them killed. Who's to say the others aren't victim to the same atrocities...?

[ Sandra, Percival, Cain, amongst so many others. Still out there, fates in limbo while he's laying around on a couch and she's stuck nursing him. ]