[ He does sense it. The prickle of discomfort, the weight of what came after. He frowns briefly for a moment. ]

I'm sorry I make you think about him. [ A quiet apology, gently offered. He does mean that. He doesn't want to upset others that way. But perhaps the best way he can help is through distraction. ]

... Yes. Probably. [ He could. ] But the bits all get jumbled. Scattered and scrambling. Like trying to find pieces of glass in the sand. Everyone's loud.

You've been here before. Tell me what you know.