"None of us are." He says- how can they be? Everything they've endured has changed them somehow, maybe them something new. Not better, just new, different from the old. He would like to think he's learned, become more careful, more responsible, but he may well have just become more distant from other people for having been left alone.

"I had two. Two sons." He says softly, fingers toying with the glass and for a moment it seems he's going to take another drink, but instead he sets it down on the table again. He can't look at her, as he says it, he doesn't want to see what her expression might be. Pity? He's not sure. She's seen enough death. But it's different when it's your own child. "One died, just before I came back here."