[He takes silent note of her distraction; not unexpected, given the course and weight of their discussion. The contour of the pattern suggests he should feel the same way--and he does, a little. He thinks. If the moment of remembering Nadya was an indication.

Easy enough to act as if.]

I think of all of them, she is one of the closest to people as we know them. Bigger, wilder, with ambitions that are beyond our grasp, but people.

If you should talk to her, I would like to hear of it.

[Then...

He takes a breath in and lets it out, a deliberate sigh.]

I think nothing in grief is ever easy, and there are many parts to our griefs. But assuming fault where it cannot be ours, this is one part.

To be a part of the universe is to be acted upon as well as to act. And yet most thinking creatures, we find helplessness worse than pain.

Especially when we know we are capable of saving worlds. Why must one life be so much harder?