[Because he missed you, you alcoholic lush. God, you're still his friend, even if they're both dead.

He nods, slowly.]

It's not like you expected to die that night, so...it's fine. I wasn't really doing that great myself.

[He idly touches his left cheekbone, fingers tracing the tip of his scar.]

But...I don't know. What to do now, I mean.

[He's kind of aimless now, letting it all soak in and not liking the answers he's coming up with in response - and it's making him want to just settle in a beanbag and never move again.]