[He makes a quiet hum of understanding. Not thinking is harder than anyone wants to make it out to be. He's seen the echoed memory of his best friend more than once already, sitting at the kitchen table in their apartment, walking to school in the morning, smiling Jean's way like they're on the same plane of existence. The mundane little things that life could be composed of. With it, inextricably melded together like the two sides of a coin, comes the heavy knowledge that it's something Marco had lost and could never get back.]
...Uh...if you'd rather just be left alone, you can tell me. [Sometimes, people need to muddle through this sort of thing on their own, he reckons.]
[action]
...Uh...if you'd rather just be left alone, you can tell me. [Sometimes, people need to muddle through this sort of thing on their own, he reckons.]