[Something about that look prompts a different reaction in him. Didn't he always tell them to look after their souls? He'd let this man go once, always at arm's length, always support from the shadows. Habit, or something like it, tells him he shouldn't move further, and yet something gnaws at him.]
[He accepts the embrace and lets him move back and watches as Vincent takes another glass.]
You'll do this on your own, will you? [It really isn't a question.]
no subject
[He accepts the embrace and lets him move back and watches as Vincent takes another glass.]
You'll do this on your own, will you? [It really isn't a question.]