He empties one of the vials to fill the needle and sets the case aside.

"I wish I could tell you something so reassuring as 'I believe in your strength of will', but I try not to lie to my friends." His voice and gaze goes beyond calm; there's a kind of emptiness in it, a glimpse of Ekkehardt the assassin rather than the teacher and doctor, Valvatorez's colleague.

"And if you believed it - or if simple words could make it so that you did - then you wouldn't need any of us here."

He smiles. The smile doesn't reach his eyes like it usually does - that feeling of absence persists - but it's a gesture of good will all the same.

"It's been a pleasure. Good luck."