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[Taking a deep breath, she braces herself, picking her words carefully.]

There was a man's voice. He was asking me about the dead. How many had died? Could I tell him their names later? I said I would. It made me think he was going to come back. And then I saw stars. Two of them engaged in a clash. I knew then that he wasn't coming back and my heart just dropped. He didn't say goodbye to me. How could he just go off to die without saying goodbye?

[Her hands start shaking again and she places the mug on the table to keep the coffee from spilling.]

Whoever he was, he must have been important. That's all I know.

[He didn't say goodbye to me.

He glances down at his own mug. When next he speaks, his voice is soft and just a little melancholy.]

That's the thing about death, I suppose. [He looks up at her.] Sometimes you don't get the chance to say goodbye, and sometimes you just let it pass when you do get one, because you don't want to worry the people you love.

But to offer false hope? It's far more cruel, isn't it? To make someone wait for something that won't return.

[An awkward laugh leaves her lips. It sounds out of place. Dissonant.]

I don't even know why I'm so upset. The man I heard was no one I knew.

[But I knew him once, didn't I?]

Yeah, well, maybe they thought it'd be better that way. But I never said it was fair to the people they loved.

[He lets out a breath.]

You said he must have been important, once. Everyone's got the right to be upset about losing someone important.

I just don't know why. What was so significant about him?

[The truth eludes her, lurking on the fringes of her mind.]

What about you though? You'd say goodbye before anything risky, wouldn't you?

I don't know. I don't want to worry my mother, or anyone else I care about, but at the same time I don't want them to wonder why I couldn't say goodbye.

[He lifts the mug to his lips, then takes a sip.] I guess it comes down to if I'm sure I'm going to make it out alive.

And if you're not? If you're certain death is coming for you?

[It's a morbid topic and she should really hold her tongue but the memory presses her on.]

If I know that there's no chance I'll come out of it alive? I'll say goodbye.

[Nodding to herself, she picks her cup back up. His reassurance seems to soothe her. He may not say goodbye to her personally but at least he'll have the good sense to respect those who care about him before knowingly diving into death. His mother, perhaps. A goodbye also grants them a fighting chance of stopping him, too. An opportunity to tell him not to go. Maybe that's why the man from her memory made sure to make it seem like he was coming back. He didn't want her to stop him.]

Perhaps that's all one can ask. A man of conviction can't be stopped if he intends to perish for the greater good. Last words are always important. That how you'll be remembered by those you leave behind.

That, and everything else about you, especially when they loved you.

"Give me their names later today." The last words from that voice. I think I may have cared for him but he likely didn't feel the same. At least that's what my gut is telling me.

He sounds like he was a good man, all things considered. Save for getting your hopes up, anyway.

I can't exactly judge them since I don't know who they are. Assuming the best may be the best course of action.

[There's a slight pang of guilt for keeping him here to discuss her worries. Nervously, she clears her throat.]

You have my thanks for deigning to listen. I shouldn't be keeping you.

No, it's fine. You know I'll always be willing to listen.

[But he does have to go. There's Ice to worry about, after all. He gets to his feet.]

Just...call me when you feel like talking more.

No problem. I'll walk you to the door.

[And with that, she gets up and leads him out, leaving the door open to watch him go down the street until he disappears around a corner.]

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