The beats of this story hit him with a knowing familiarity, but he absorbs what are just words with much better composure than a direct line to the turmoil. It's so strange to feel others so literally; strange, often exhilarating too.

"It's difficult," Daigo agrees. A graciously packaged over-simplification of his understanding. It was different when it was Mine, but it... wasn't. It was still terrible, longing grief ripped back open long after the moment of impact. "But I hope as the initial shock wore off, you were able to find some peace."

He fishes for his cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. Something to fiddle with, he doesn't even light it immediately.