"Well, yes," he says, softly. "That's very reasonable. I don't know if I'd have done any differently in your place." He's quiet for a moment. "My uncle got sick like that. When I was seven. He died less than a year later. We know what it was, but I don't know how much that helps when there was no cure. If I'd had the option to try to save him with necromancy, I'd have taken it. Just like I'd have done anything to bring Charley back after I came home to find her missing."

He shakes his head. "Keats was your Charley, I guess," he says and it settles something in him to put that notion into words. "Not that... losing Edward wasn't horrible too. But it's different when it's a younger sibling, one who depends on you."

He's quiet for another long moment. "I should get you something to drink. I'm not entirely sure either of us should be sober now. Hell, I'll get you high if you want it. I cooked the stuff myself."