“I failed you,” he tells her, though Dawsyn gets the impression that he doesn’t say it for her. He says it for himself, to vent his thoughts, release some sort of inner haunting. “I found you,” he murmurs. “Finally, I found you. Someone just like me. And then I failed you.” He lifts a hand to his face and scrubs it, eyes pained, tortured. He looks like a man crumbling under the pressure of the world. “Tonight, I failed you again.”
