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A synthesized woman's voice picks up the call.

"Your call has been forwarded to an automatic voice message system. Two - Zero - Two - Nine - One - Eight - Two - One - Three - Two -- is not available now. At the tone, please record your message. When you've finished recording, you may hang up or press the # key for more options."

Dimitri hasn't figured out how to customize the thing yet.

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"Heh -- " A wet, aborted chuckle. Dimitri gets up, his movements jerky and faltering, and retrieves a shoebox from his side of the closet. He doesn't wear it often -- it's too liable to get damaged during training, or because Dimitri is cursed to break precious things -- but -- "He got us bracelets. A set. Him, Darcy, and I." Dimitri's just says IN. "If you have the third, I ... "

"Like it meant anything to you."

"I'd like to keep it safe," Dimitri goes on, pushing past the voice, "but in all likelihood he was wearing it when he ... "

"Went to Hell like everyone who cares about you." Dimitri flinches.

Oh, something's going on and giving Dimitri an especially bad time.

César's expression softens, his shoulders sagging a bit. "I... think it was on him when he vanished." He glances to his wedding ring for a moment, fidgeting with it. "He... had his ring on him, too. They were a set of four, not three. Rich kept his on a chain."

He looks back up. "I will do everything in my power to get him back. I've learned how reality works once before. I will do so again."

A father, through and through, César is quickly recentering himself because he's needed.

Dimitri draws a shaky breath. "Ah well -- perhaps it's f-for the best he has it. Something to -- to tie him to us."

If it was any good for that Rich wouldn't be gone in the first place.

The dead are gone. Forever. Beyond help, or hope, or reason. No trinket could make a difference.

But Rich isn't dead, is he? Just --

Pain spikes back through Dimitri's skull. He shakes his head, and presses the heel of his hand to his eye. "How ... reality works?" he echoes, his voice tinny and hollow in his ears.

César watches Dimitri and can feel himself getting rapidly concerned. Something's not right. Dimitri getting upset is expected, but—

"Yes. How reality works. Learning how this reality works is the first step to breaking free. We're not going to leave Rich in there. We'll get him out, somehow."

Too late, Dimitri catches César's concern. He gives a practiced smile, which would almost work if his face wasn't gray and clammy. "Ah -- I'm alright. I get these -- h-headaches, at times. Stress makes them ... "

"Oh, YOU'RE stressed?"

Dimitri barely flickers at that one. He shakes his head, grinds his knuckles against his temple, and fixes his smile back in place. "Yes. Yes, we'll ... I'm not much for sorcery, or s-science, but if there's anything I can do -- please -- please, don't hesitate to ask."

"You're allowed to be upset." César says gently. "Our pain isn't mutually exclusive. I have husbands. I'll be okay. Dimitri... please. You don't have to mask the truth from me. I know what that's like, and I refuse to be a part in forcing it onto someone else."

Dimitri's rapidly losing control of his emotions, but that part is fine. The part that worries César is that he's fighting against them hard enough to create a crisis.

"It'll help me to help you." Because he senses Dimitri is the self-sacrificing type (takes one to know one).

It'll help me to help you is Dimitri's line, dammit. Which means he can't argue with it.

He stares, wide-eyed and motionless, while his sense of control and better nature wrestle with everything else. His breathing quickens, visible only in the rise and fall of his chest.

César pauses for a moment, then nods and quickly goes to the bathroom to grab a clean towel. He returns. A quick flick of the wrist and the towel unfolds.

"You have supreme strength. Focus on ripping this towel as slowly as you can. Try to make it slower and slower. See if it's possible. Keep your focus on that and recenter yourself." It's an utterly ridiculous task, and one that Dimitri has never done before.

"Wh. What?" Dimitri hugs the towel to his chest, affronted and a little protective. "No! I do enough damage by accident, I'm not going to ruin something on purpose."

Well ... at least he's unfrozen?

César chokes on a laugh. It shouldn't be funny, and it's only funny for a split-second. But he needed that.

"Well, that works, too." César breathes. "... honestly, I cut up the towels rather regularly to make rags for things since we can get more." A complete sidetrack, but.

The sidetrack's not unwelcome. "That's sensible. I know they're replaced, but. I just don't ... I'd rather not."

Dimitri's careful about folding the towel into quarters before setting it on his lap. He can't get the corners to line up -- Dedue can, Mercedes can, Sylvain of all people, but Dimitri's never had the knack.

" ... this is -- the first time someone close to me has vanished," he says, muted. "On the ship. I spoke to Undine and Stede once or twice -- that's as close as I've been to anyone else we've lost. So it's ... it's a shock."

César nods to Dimitri's preferences, completely understanding. The young man's too tired of breaking things.

"It is." César agrees quietly, his gaze turning back to his ring as he fidgets with it. "It's the same for me. He's the dearest person to my heart that we've lost."

"It never gets easier."

"It shouldn't."

"You can only hope you'll never have to feel it again."

"And you never learn."

"... Life is about loss, to some extent. Even if we get off this ship, people will die of old age eventually. But life wouldn't be precious if it could never end. We'd never have children. I'd be an only child." César hates going philosophical, but it's part of what helps him continue on. "But it still hurts in the end."

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