He exhales a breath through pursed lips and teeth, like he's deflating. He lifts his hands slightly, then lets them fall and slap against his thighs, as though he's already halfway given up on it all.

"Well. No. Not at all. But here we are."

Another kid dead, yet another kid he failed to protect, and so young. The loss is tragic, and the guilt keeps him up at night, raking himself over the coals of what-ifs.

But all he can do now is exactly what they're about to do.