Those shadows look more like ones tossed by candlelight, like figures through a fogged glass or the remnants of whiteboard drawings, where one could just barely see what was there before. That was good, he supposed, to be letting out all this grief that he hadn't spoken of for years.

"... Yeah. Might've." He runs his hand over his face, trying to scrub at the tears on his cheeks. He might have ended up dead. Might have ended up worse. Might have ended up like Amelie, might have ended up like... Like Reyes.

"... But maybe I could've saved you from what happened in Switzerland." There it is. All that guilt come to a head. A secret finally admitted. And with a groan like the very earth was shifting on his access, the shadows disappear. They dart out to the four corners of the room, underneath the door and through the window, vanishing as quickly as they came.

"I only survived 'cause I was a coward. I was a young punk you took in and I survived and you didn't because I ran." The confession knocks the wind out of him, and his shoulders begin to shake again.

"It should've been you, Reyes."