SEVENTEEN
REZA
THE TRUTH CAN BE UNPLEASANT
I wake to the sound of bells and the sensation of a thousand ton weight pressing down on my chest. It takes me a second to remember how to breathe, and then another second to remember where I am.
The moment I think Jass’ name, the dream comes flooding back to me. And then…many more dreams. Many, many more.
What…
…the…
…Fuck?
Oh…gods.
I’ve been to him before. I’ve moved the heavens aside in order to get to him. For…oh no. It’s been this way for cycles. Ever since the Invictus. A wall of horror slams into me when I remember our past exchanges. At first, I resisted him. I did everything I could to avoid the connection I could feel growing stronger and stronger every time we met. And then, my emotions became too much. I gave myself to him. I kissed him in a windswept field he’d created with his mind, and afterward he’d held me and stroked my hair while I cried. He brought me to a beach, and we fought. He held me. He kissed me. We tore each other’s clothes off, and he claimed me for the very first time. He took me to planets I’ve never been to before. When I entered a dream and I couldn’t remember the past we shared, he showed me his memories of us time and time again.
As each dream comes jolting back to me, I want to die. I hate myself for what I’ve allowed to take place. I want to hate Jass, too, for manipulating me and using me. But there’s a problem: he didn’t do either of those things. I know with an absolute certainty that he didn’t take advantage of me. Every time he’s reached out for me, he’s offered me an out. He’s offered me the option of backing away and leaving him. I’ve never once felt threatened or truly afraid of him in my dreams. I’ve felt an odd kinship, rooted deep inside me, and it’s overwritten any other emotion I might have had. When his lips have met mine, I’ve welcomed the taste of him. When he’s pushed himself inside me, his breath hot and heavy in my ear, I’ve felt complete. And when his arms have encircled me, I’ve felt…safe.
Gods. This is so fucked up.
I hid all of this from myself. I purposefully buried it, so I wouldn’t have to deal with it. It was the weakest thing I could have done. I can still feel the draw down the tether we share now, tugging at me, trying to pull me toward him. Jass told me he wasn’t responsible for the fact that I couldn’t remember our meetings, and, against all the odds, I believe him. So many miles separated us before, when he was on The Nexus, and the connection linking us together was weak. I could still feel it niggling at me, teasing me, taunting me, beckoning me out into space, but it was easy to press it to the back of my mind, and easy enough to ignore it. Now, with him only a few hundred feet away, that same connection feels capable of lifting me from my feet and hauling me to his side whether I like it or not. It’s strong and bright, burning a pathway through the synapses of my mind. Jass was right. Somehow, I did subconsciously manage to block out my own memories, either from shame or the simple fact that I did not want to deal with them, but now that the connection’s reinforcing itself so quickly, it won’t allow me the luxury of ignorance any more.
The sound of running boots and strained voices flood the hallway outside my room as a handful of people hurry by. The clamor of bells continues as I hurry to pull on my clothes and I leave my room. The urgency and panic that fills the air finally hits me when I step into the tunnel that leads to the communications center where I first met Erika. A hundred bodies are packed tightly together, where the sides of the tunnel form a bottleneck, and a wailing woman with a child in her arms collapses to the ground, disappearing beneath the crush.
“Wait! Wait!” I struggle to push closer but more and more people are filling the tunnel, all desperately trying to jam their way forward through the bottleneck. “Stop!” I scream. “Someone fell! Someone went down!”
A tall man beside me grabs hold of my arm, tying to jerk me back. “Wait your turn. We’ll all get through if you just wait!” When he looks at me, his eyes glaze over and he releases me, though, shaking his hand out. His mouth hangs open, slack, and he falls still. A wave of people flow around him, and he’s lost in the crowd. I scoot down, trying to locate the woman and her child who fell, but whenever I bend, hands and legs and arms collide with me, threatening to shove me down. I reach the spot where the woman vanished, and I search the ground as best I can without falling myself, but there’s no one there, no one being crushed underfoot. She could have scrambled her way to safety? She must have gotten to her feet and already moved on. Someone else must have helped her up.
I scan the faces that surround me, hunting for the woman’s panicked features, but I don’t see her. Only a hundred urgent, frantic people, all desperate to reach their destination. I grab hold of the closest man, shouting into his ear. “What’s happened? Are we being attacked?” My head is full of images—unpleasant ones. Construct ships filling the air. Foot soldiers deploying on the surface of Pirius, using their hand scanners to detect the massive sub city beneath their feet. Gods, if that’s happened…there are too many people down here. There aren’t enough exits. I’ve witnessed how the Construct handles situations like this before. One canister of stem-gas tossed inside each entryway. That’s all it takes. They allow the tunnels to do their job for them, using the natural ventilation that flows through subterranean cities like this to distribute their poison. How long would it take for everyone to be dead? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? A carpet of bodies, eyes rolling, bodies twitching, all laid on top of one another as they slip from this life. I try to breathe cautiously—is there anything wrong with the air?—but all I can smell is sweat and fear.
The man I’ve grabbed hold of, a boy really, barely out of his apprenticeship, squints at me, attempting to wrestle himself free. “The chancellor…” he gasps. “We have to get to the Appointments Hall. Let me go, damn it. You’re hurting me.”
My grip is loose. There’s no way I’m hurting him with my hand. He’s referring to me; my presence is causing him discomfort. I’m never going to get used to the fact that I can cause such harm by merely being. It’s bewildering. I release him, letting him slip away from me, and he disappears, thrusting his way through the crowd with no thought for the people around him.
It takes an age to get through the bottleneck. It’s much easier to move once I’ve battled my way through the melee; the tunnel opens up into a broader walkway, and traffic flows much quicker. I follow the swarm of sweat-covered bodies, and soon I find myself being spat out inside what must be the Appointments Hall. Overhead, the roof of the enormous space is so dimly lit that just a suggestion of its vaulted coves are visible in the darkness. The air’s thick and warm. Cloying. Every available inch of space is occupied by groups of gathered friends and families sticking together. Neighbors, all whispering behind their hands, their dark eyes hazy and clouded as they converse. At the front of the Appointments Hall, a huge, raised dais sits above the uneven, rocky ground that stretches before me. On the dais, an explosion of color takes me by surprise.
Flowers.
So many flowers. Thousands of them.
My breath catches in my throat, my eyes unable to process the scene for a second. There are no flowers on Pirius. As far as I’ve seen, the only agricultural ground that remains left on the surface, fiercely protected from the planet’s storms, is used solely to grow crops. The seers could never give over fertile ground to something so frivolous as flowers. So where, then, have they come from? In a planet so stripped of color, the bright purples, reds, oranges, pinks and yellows are such a surprise to me that for a second I can’t see through my tears. They’re so beautiful. So unexpected and lovely. It’s as if everyone catches sight of the blooms at the same time, because a hushed, reverent silence slowly falls over the assembly, and all faces turn toward the dais. Just to left of the rusting platform, I notice Darius, standing with Chancellor Gain. Col’s there, too. It’s as if he feels my eyes on him; he looks up, scanning the crowd of people in the half-light until he finds me, standing at the back. His face is bloodless, paler than it was when he first arrived with Jass.
He raises a hand and gestures to me, signaling that I should come forward, but it’s impossible. The floor of the Appointments Hall is packed shoulder to shoulder. I only seem to cause people pain when I come into contact with them, and having to touch so many in order to get to Col? That would be unwelcome, but more importantly unkind. Col’s gaze hardens; at first I think he’s angry that I’m not doing as he’s told me, but then I feel the presence at my back and I know Col’s hard stare isn’t for me. It’s for Jass.
A whisper skates across my skin. A caress of words. “What do you sense inside this room?” Jass is standing so close to me that his lips move my hair as he speaks. His warm breath makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. My eyes slowly close, and for a second, one brief, unexpected second, the weariness that’s been weighting my limbs down since I woke eases. A blankness fills my head. A blissful void dampens the relentless chatter around us and for a moment I am calm. My muscles fall slack, and the anxiety that’s taken residence deep within my bones loosens its hold over me. I’m transported back through a multitude of dreams where Jass has taken care of me. Peppered my face with kisses. He’s soothed my soul, only to then set it on fire all over again. How could I not have remembered all of this? How could I have blotted out so much?
“I can’t sense a thing,” Jass whispers. “Not that I’m trying. It’s kinda fun to revel in this kind of mayhem, don’t you think?”
I’m far from reveling in it. Weirdly, it’s as though I’ve been set free from it and he knows this. He isn’t touching me, but he’s protecting me somehow, shielding me from the noise and the uplifted voices that continue to war for attention around us. My lungs expand inside my chest, and I can breathe. Feels amazing.
“How are you doing this?” I whisper. He’s here with me, inside this little bubble of quiet he’s created, so I know he can hear me. He sighs; there’s a sort of energy escaping from him, prickling at my skin.
“It’s the easiest thing in the world,” he muses. “I just have to think it and it happens. You could do it, too, but you already know that. You already know how similar we are, don’t you?”
“I know everything,” I whisper. “I know how long we’ve been…” Damn it, I can’t say the words. It’s far too difficult. I can’t admit that I’ve craved him without even realizing it. I can’t admit that I…that I care about him. These dreams we’ve shared…I don’t even know if they count as real. Our minds were there, but our bodies weren’t. I’d like to be able to say that none of it actually happened because of that fact, but how? I felt his hands on my body. I pressed my own mouth against his. I heard his heart beating wildly beneath the solid muscle of his chest. And my mind did fall apart as he made me come. I’d be lying to myself if I tried to convince myself it wasn’t true, and I’ve apparently been lying to myself enough of late.
Jass is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him thinking. A solid minute passes before he speaks. “Everything. You remember the times we’ve spent together, then.” Not a question. A statement. He shifts, and his chest brushes against my back for a second. My body feels like it’s about to burst into flames. “I was beginning to think we were going to have to start over, Reza. I didn’t want to have to do that.”
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I hiss. “None of it. Just because we share a connection doesn’t mean we have to be together. Just because we’ve been together in our heads doesn’t mean we have to be together in reality.” Wouldn’t that just simply everything? It would be wonderful to just discount everything that’s occurred and bury it all beneath the sand dunes. I’m never going to tell Col. I’m never going to tell Darius. I’m never going to tell anyone about the new found history I share with Jass. They’d never understand.
Jass hums deeply. “If you think walking away is so easy, then I admire you. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than me. I know I can’t do it.”
A tremor runs down the length of my body, sharp pins and needles settling in my hands and my feet. He’s undeniably a cold, hard, uncaring person most of the time. To hear him say he couldn’t walk away this—from me—causes a strange reaction in me. An admission like that is a weakness on his part. I don’t know how to process his show of vulnerability.
Jass’ control over the bubble he’s created around us contracts, and the din inside the Appointments Hall comes crashing down again, almost deafening me. Now, when I speak, I have to shout to be heard. “Ease has nothing to do with this,” I tell him. “I’m nothing like you, Jass. The only thing you and I have in common is that the Construct took us both. Beyond that, the similarities end. You have no moral compass. You have no conscience.” I shake my head, exasperated. Spinning around to face him, my resolve falters as I look up into his gold-flecked eyes. “We’re incompatible,” I say.
Jass’ eyes narrow, crinkling in the corners. Not with annoyance, though. With amusement. He towers over me, his presence sending out even more crackling energy that zips from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. He’s pure electricity, and I’m a lightning rod. Dizziness sweeps over me. I have to swallow hard, pulling in a lungful of air in order to try and stop my head from spinning. A fine line forms between Jass’ almost black eyebrows—a look I wouldn’t expect to see him wearing. Concern? No. No, it couldn’t be that.
“Incompatible’s a poor choice of words,” he says. “No one else in the entire universe is compatible with me. You’re the only one. And you could look for the rest of your life, Reza, and you’ll never find anyone who fits you as completely as I do.”
I don’t want it to be true. If I shut out his words and refuse to let them in, perhaps I’ll be able to quash the knowledge that he’s right. Why is it so fucking hard? “Impossible, then,” I counter. “If anyone here knew who you really were, the place would be deserted. We can never be us. You’d always have to be someone else, you’d have to change, and we both know you’re not capable of that.”
A flash of anger briefly twists his features, and a troubling thought hits me as Jass blinks down at me. There’s a savage, untamable, raw beauty to him. He isn’t classically handsome by any stretch of the imagination, but the knife straight, strong line of his nose lends his features solidity; the high, pronounced line of his cheekbones tempers that, offering a softness in return. His full mouth is expressive, the cupids bow that forms his upper lip perfect in its line. And his eyes, so mercurial and volatile, calm one moment, wild and extreme in their beauty the next, are more than a little distracting. He’s fascinating to look at whatever his mood, but, worryingly, he is at his most breathtaking when he’s angry.
“People of Pirius, we’re grateful you have been able to join us here today. We are aware that this event wasn’t supposed to happen for another six days, however, as you know, the timeline of the west sector developed rather dramatically last night.” Darius stands on the dais, a mournful look on his face. His robes, which are usually white, are black today, shot through with a single line of red down the right hand side. He wears a mask of worry that looks as if it’s been permanently carved into his face—a mask very similar to the one Col is wearing as he clambers up onto the platform next to Darius.
“This isn’t even faintly interesting,” Jass hisses into my ear.
“Shut up.”
Surprisingly, Jass shuts up, but I can feel a wall of heat radiating from him, burning into my back. He’s not used to being told to shut up. I can’t worry about the repercussions of my sharp tongue right now, though. This tangled mess between us is going to have to wait. All of it will. Darius is saying something, and it sounds important. The woman next to me is crying, tears flowing freely down her cheeks.
“…natural death. However, the cardiac failure Erika and many of her close friends foresaw in her future a long time ago did not come to pass. At some point last night, someone broke into Erika’s rooms and stabbed her in the stomach with a ceremonial blade. She didn’t seek help. She used the minutes she had left to write a letter to her son, followed by a letter to you, her people. Col will open and read that letter to you now, as per Erika’s wishes.”
Muted muttering spreads through the crowd like wildfire, rising to an impossibly loud buzz. I can’t bend my head around the statement that just came out of Darius’ mouth. Erika is dead? Erika…can’t be dead. And what the hell is the healer talking about? Erika foresaw her own death? She thought she was going to have a heart attack in six days’ time? It dawns on me as I try and snap the stubborn puzzle pieces together, that this is what Erika was talking about the night I came to the sub city. She said she was sick, that her condition was worsening, but she looked fine. Darius mentioned a gathering, and the chancellor has been sad. She was filled with regret that she wouldn’t be able to attend the ceremony in person. She was talking about her own funeral procession. Gods, what a terrible thing to know about yourself. And then to be wrong? To have even less time than you anticipated…
“Why has this happened?” someone at the far back yells. “The date of Erika’s death was predicted fifteen cycles ago! Many of us saw it. Why would it happen now?”
“There’s been no murder amongst our people for centuries,” another shouts.
Darius and Col ignore the succession of furious questions that are volleyed at them from around the Appointments Hall. Awkwardly, Col stands in the center of the dais and carefully tears open the small white scroll of people he’s holding in his hands. His hands shake as he unravels the paper. His voice cracks when he begins to speak.
“Friends. I have anticipated the arrival of this day for half a lifetime. I’ve had a long time to consider the words I will leave behind to guide you, and yet now, at the hour of my death, they seem insufficient. For the past forty-three cycles, it has been my greatest honor to serve my people. No other path could have led me to such joy, satisfaction and happiness. I dearly hope I have lived up to your expectations as a good leader, and that I have always steered you in the right direction. Occasionally, our pathways are obscured, and the future is uncertain. As for all species and peoples across the galaxy, moments like these are frightening. Uncertainty is always frightening. When we can no longer see the road ahead…” Col pauses, blinking, batting his tears away with the back of his hand. He clears his throat and then continues. “When we can no longer see the road ahead, we are paralyzed by fear and indecision. Which is the right choice? How should we proceed? Should we stand and fight, or hide ourselves away, to fight another day? I say to you, friends, that we are a good people. A righteous people. The coming days might be dark and fraught with tough decisions, but we are still a mighty force to contend with, even without our visions. There is always a clear line between right and wrong. We will always know which side of that line we stand upon, because we do not allow the weak and the voiceless to suffer. We do not pass by those in pain on the wayside without offering our assistance. The doors of our houses are always open to those in need, and our hands are always outstretched to offer help. It is who we are. It is who we must remain. Always. No matter the cost. Remember this, people of Pirius. My fondest farewell, Erika Pakka.”
You could cut through the silence hovering over the hall with a knife. You can almost feel the texture of it in the air, like greasy smoke. For a long time, no one says anything. We all watch as Col sheds his grief, his tears streaming down his face, his shoulders shaking as he weeps. Beside him, Darius places a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades, and he closes his eyes, bowing his head.
Slowly, Chancellor Gain places his hand in the middle of Darius’ back, bowing his head and closing his eyes. A pattern forms, the woman standing behind Gain copying him. Considerably shorter than the chancellor, she has to reach up to place her on his back, but she bows her head and closes her eyes all the time. The person behind her follows suit, and then the person behind him, and then the person behind him. It doesn’t take long for the movement to flow down into the people surrounding the dais, and in a chain of sorrow suddenly everyone is connected. The men and women pressed in around us all mimic the gesture in silence, and soon Jass and I are the only ones untouched, standing with our heads held high.
On the dais, Col’s pale blue eyes find mine. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, his shoulders hitching as he obviously takes in a huge breath. A long time passes. No one breathes a word. No one twitches. No one moves. Not even Jass. I risk a glance at him out of the corner of my eye and his face is grave, his expression void of the disgust I would have expected from him in a situation like this. He looks like he’s taking everything in, absorbing it, cataloguing the sounds and sights within the great Appointments Hall. It’s so strange to have him standing next to me. So strange. It’s hard to accept that he’s even really here, apart from the Construct, and just…standing there next to me. My senses scream that I should put as much space between the two of us as possible. My sense of self-preservation would have me on the outer reaches of the galaxy if it were at all possible. On the other hand, my sense of curiosity would have be standing right here, waiting to see what happens next. My need and my deep, frightening affection for him demands that he remain by my side.
He’s been a facsimile for so long. A ghost. A dreamed up man in a dreamed up field, or a dreamed up city, or dreamed up darkness. Now that he’s here, his hand less than four inches away from mine, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How I’m supposed to react.
As if he can feel my gaze on him, Jass looks askance, mirroring my own covert move as he watches me out of the corner of his eye. “You think very loudly,” he murmurs.
“My shields are up. You can’t tell what I’m thinking,” I whisper back.
Without any warning, the thousands of people in the crowd suddenly all lift their heads in unison, releasing their hold on their neighbor’s back, and a loud buzzing fills the hall as everyone begins to chatter and argue all over again. Their moment of grief is over. I jump at the unexpected activity after such a somber silence, and a ruinous smile spreads across Jass’ face.
“Your shield’s pretty good,” he informs me. “But it’s like you’re carrying water in a bucket filled with holes. You conceal most of your mind, but your thoughts and ideas still leak out all over the place. I can’t be held accountable if I trip over a few of them here and there.”
I scowl, looking away from him. How dare he talk about accountability. Jass Beylar doesn’t consider himself accountable for anything, least of all his own actions. I know that perfectly well. I’m about to try and slip off into the crowd, to make my way closer to the dais, but Darius steps forward and raises his hand, urging the Pirians to calm themselves.
It’s not until peace has returned that he speaks softly, his soothing voice carrying to every corner of the Appointments Hall. “Since Chancellor Pakka departed us earlier than expected, we’ve not had time to accept nominations for her successor. There are rules that must be followed, however—”
“Chancellor Farren!” someone shouts close to the dais.
“Yes! Farren!” follows another voice.
Darius smiles tightly. “As you know, a chancellor may not preside over more than one sector. That means that Chancellor Farren is unfortunately ineligible to take over Chancellor Pakka’s responsibilities.”
A number of voices are raised, calling out their dismay, arguing the point with Darius. My friend on the dais simply shakes his head, dismissing them out of hand. “As healer of the first sector, I am not eligible for the position, and neither is Chancellor Gain. The new Chancellor of the first sector must not already hold a position of power. That’s our way. It has always been our way. We will not turn away from our traditions and our politics now, when we should be adhering to them all the more rigorously.”
Darius’ words are not well received by some of the crowd, but there are others who agree with him. A woman with pronounced brow ridges and almost completely black eyes spits on the ground at her feet. “Farren’s a crook. A thug, who throws punches to solve his problems. He’d only lead us to destruction and war,” she hisses.
“War’s already coming. War is already on our doorstep,” a short man with a bulbous nose and tattoos marking his cheeks replies. “We’ve never had a leader with military experience before, because we’ve never needed one. Things are different now. We need someone who knows how to protect us.”
An argument breaks out, and voices climb higher and higher, inflated with anger, frustration and fear, so loud that Darius’ desperate cries for peace nearly go unheard. “Friends! Friends! We will proceed with the nominations as we always have. As you leave the hall, you will be able to write your nomination for chancellor upon a token and cast it anonymously into the ballot box.” Darius pauses, his eyes roving over the hall, his mouth parted, as if he’s about to say something else. He closes his mouth, frowning, and then a look of determination takes over. “I’m aware that it’s unusual to share your nomination, but in this instance I feel compelled to do so. When I cast my token into the ballot box tonight, I already know the name that will be written upon it. That name will be…” Everyone holds their breath, waiting for what Darius will say. The man stands a little straighter, takes a deep breath, and completes his sentence. “Col Pakka.”
Pandemonium.
Instant madness echoes from the dirt beneath my feet, up, up, up, vibrating off the high, vaulted ceilings of the hall. The name is a surprise to all. A shock that no one knows how to process. Even I’m a little taken aback by Darius’ decision.
“Col can’t be the next chancellor!” someone hollers.
“He is not one of us!”
“He is not Pirian!”
Some members of the crowd look to one another, confusion written all over them as they clearly consider the validity of this strange announcement. Col himself looks stunned, still clutching hold of the scroll of paper his mother asked him to read out loud. He looks at Darius, his mouth hanging open, like he can’t comprehend Darius’ announcement. Darius is steadfast in his conviction, though.
“Col is a man of great courage. He’s repeatedly shown great love and affection for the people of this planet. He has sacrificed and suffered for a people he shares no blood with, when he did not have to. He’s shown greater dedication and commitment to the continued safety of our people than anyone else I know. Before you reject Col as a candidate for this position, ask yourself this. What have you given to ensure the safety of your neighbors?” Darius pauses for a moment, waiting for his question to settle in the minds of his people. His voice is steeled by conviction when he continues. “Erika Pakka was a revered, much loved leader of our people. She was honorable, benevolent, honest and kind. She will be greatly missed, and it will be almost impossible to find someone to fill her shoes. But who better than her son? A man formed and molded by Erika’s own hand, since he was less than three cycles of age? A man within whom she has instilled a fierce love for this planet and its people? Col’s faith in our way of life is unshakeable, just as his mother’s was. I can’t think of anyone more qualified and suited to take her place.”
“He isn’t blessed with sight!” an elderly woman wearing a black robe calls. “How would he guide us?”
Darius splays his fingers, holding his hands out, palms upward. “None of us are blessed with the sight at this moment, grandmother. Who knows if our talents will return? We’ve relied on our visions to guide us for so long that without them we are trapped by our own indecision, just as Erika said in her letter. Col has always had to rely on his intuition, his gut and his own common sense to make his way through life. He is in a far better position to lead than anyone else because of that alone.”
A rumble of disquiet spreads through the gathering. Jass laughs softly under his breath, shaking his head, dark waves of hair tumbling into his face as he looks at his feet. “So pointless,” he says softly. “All of this bickering and sniping. If the Construct finds this dusty, bleak outpost, it doesn’t matter who’s leading the first sector, or any of the other sectors for that matter. It doesn’t matter who can see what coming, or who is a completely fucking blind. There won’t be a single thing they can do about it. They’ll be wiped from the annals of time. Their civilization will scattered like grains of sand. Or rather they’ll be buried beneath the sand. Regis won’t even have to break a sweat to make it happen.” Jass sees my face and stops laughing. “You look like you want to tear my head off. You think I’m being unkind. I’m not, though. Your anger’s misplaced.”
“My anger is definitely not misplaced. It’s perfectly warranted. You’re an unfeeling asshole with no conscience.”
Jass shrugs. “Took me a long time to learn that people don’t like hearing the truth. The truth can be unpleasant. I’m sorry that the reality of this situation is so difficult for you to stomach, Reza. I’m sorry for that at least. If these people really are about to attract the attention of the Construct, then there’s absolutely no hope for them. You know that.” He looks around, a faint air of disinterest pouring off him now. His gaze lands on Col, and a gentle line forms between his dark eyebrows. His face has paled significantly in the last few moments. “You’d better go hold that poor bastard’s hand,” Jass says. “He looks like he’s about to cry again.” With that, he pivots on the heel of his boot and he walks away.