Nigredo did not have to hazard a guess as to the face she wore. It might have been his own, had he stood in her shoes. For that, the younger felt the well-known pang of guilt, with the usual depressive tones. He clasped his hands together and looked away entirely.

"I'm sorry. This isn't what you wanted to hear." He had known how much she'd devoted herself to the man they had called Father. He'd known because once he had felt similarly. If this incarnation and his own emotions matched, then she would be...

A wistful smile touched his lips, albeit hope wasn't something he could communicate. Not after such a display. "Will you still visit me?" asked Nigredo flatly, knowing his chances for the positive were slim.