Alfred looked at her with a frown. He didn't go into great detail about his time wandering in the wilderness very often. He'd talk about time spent with the tribe readily enough, if he thought his conversation partner would be at all interested in it, but the years before had been a considerably darker time in his life. If there was ever a moment to talk about it, though, he supposed this was it. Jo understood more about him than most people did, and she was going through the same sort of dark thoughts that he'd struggled with for much of that period of his life.

"I made literally every decision for nearly two years," he said plainly. He was looking at Jo as he said it, but shifted his eyes down to his hands shortly after. From the time that the one other remaining officer had started to take ill — and for a good deal before then, when he had been slowly going off the rails — Alfred had been the one to decide when they moved and when they stopped, when they looked for food and water, which direction they went. Literally everything that had happened could have been traced back to one or more of his decision.

"And twenty-two people died. So... yes," he said, the volume of his voice lowering slightly towards the end. He shrugged. He glanced at her again, then off towards one of the charts hanging on the wall. "Yes, I've felt that way."