[ He makes a noise of acknowledgement, slight, in the back of his throat. Thinks back to the blowup with Kokichi, de Guzman—his character amorphous, insistently slippery—taking shape a little. A man mired in shame. Unable to bear public scrutiny.

Why the fuck had he been out there? For a reason, or just to hurt someone, feel like a man? ] Alright, I want you to close your eyes. Find your pulse at your neck. Focus on that, nothing else, and wait till it's steady.