Leaning back, Alvin blew out a steadying breath. How many times was he going to have to do this? They still had a funeral to get through and who knew how many people to have this same conversation with. Alvin was tired. He wanted to skip all of this and jump ahead six months when it wasn't so fresh, when people wouldn't look at him with abject sympathy or hear their apologies day after day. Merlin he wished he could something, anything other than this. He wished he still had a workshop he could throw himself into without a care, something physical to keep him busy and tired.

Stretching out his neck to either side, Alvin ran a frustrated hand through his hair. He passed Lottie a helpless sort of grimace, completely at a loss for what to do or say. "I don't know what to do." The admission was hoarse, painful; he sounded pitiful and he hated that too.