The period of silence is stabilizing. Gradually he's able to breathe through his shuddering discomfort and banish those faded, distorted remnants of grief and leave his head clear.

When Seth speaks again, his own profession of tragedy immediately elicits a pang of sympathy. Daniel looks at him, patient and searching.

"I'm sorry," he says, painfully aware that those words mean so little when refracted through loss. "You don't have to - if you want to talk about it you can, but, well. I'd understand if you don't."

He drops one hand onto Seth's shoulder in unspoken solidarity. Here's to loving and losing, right?