Well. I admit I'd be a bit offended if I slipped through your fingers and it didn't affect you at all. 'Tis not that there would never be pain, or hurt, or regret.

[He turns over slowly, positioning himself so that he can look properly at Rynlan; tired and injured and wrung-out as he is, there's still the faintest hint of warmth in the edges of his mouth.]

But could it be worth it? The joys. The laughter. Could you think of me and smile for what we shared, to temper the loss?