[ It sounds uncomfortably familiar and it shows in the way he keeps his head down, afraid of what he might outwardly show as his stomach twists itself into knots.

But he'd meant what he'd said about wanting to help her. The how is the real issue. All he seems capable of doing is harming others, and if not that, then burdening them. It's that small, self-pitying voice in his ear again, and Dokja swallows thickly, tries hard to place Abel's words in front of the ones in his head. ]

I'm not great at talking to people.

[ That much has been plenty obvious. With that said, he finally lifts his head to offer a tentative smile. ]

She's never made anything easy, has she? Then again, I suppose I haven't either. [ Understatement of the century. ] I'll still try.

[ With the amount of time he has left. ]