It would be easier if he didn't know the numbers. Exact counts of confirmed dead. Presumed missing. Population counts from latest censuses. Typical margin of error for those numbers. Average rate of immigration to the slums. So many numbers. SO many damn numbers and his hands tighten around his coat as he stands there. But Steph's hand grounds him, soothes him enough to keep him focused on the issue.

"Unfortunately I'm relatively new here, I don't recognize anything outside of the village and the path to the southern farming project," he said softly as he tried to calm himself, tried to refocus. Three years ago. He... he could handle this. "I wish I could be better assistance. Perhaps if we could find somewhere to get a better view from I could determine at least where we are in relation to the village."

One of his hands unfolds from the other to lightly reach out and put his fingers on Steph's hand. A quiet thank you for the support.