"At least I'm here," he echoes, following sigh subsumed into a snort, a gritty sound delivered through his teeth. Not quite a sneer, but there's an edge to the stretch of skin under his eyes, when they narrow and he gently shakes his head. Tongue to eyetooth, he huffs another breath to break the contact. "That's some great phrasing."

It begs consideration of the alternative, which he has avoided until--putting on this coat, finding his cards in the pocket. Until holding Chiyo's face in his hand. The alternative is snow-choked Manhattan and gunfire, but it's also the possibility of seeing her again.

"Maybe you should assign me some community service. Keep me sane."