[ G'raha's eyes slip closed when their fingers run along the spot where the bullet wound had been, just above his left temple. It feels unfamiliar, the pattern they trace, because it had been instant. So instant that he can't even be fully certain where the bullet entered his head. But he's sure Siffrin knows. He saw, after all.

And he's sorry, too, that he had to see it.

It's why he's quiet, for once, as Siffrin speaks aloud their thoughts. He really doesn't like it, jagged and messy as it is, but he'll accept it. Take it and hold it in his hand and slot it into the puzzle that comprises Siffrin. ]

Your rage... is not without cause. [ This, he fully believes. ] However, we have a means of escape, and must only wait now, so I presume you know what I will say.

[ That he'd like for Siffrin to move on, as much as he is able. ]