He and his primos spent a lot of time wondering why them, for better or worse. They'd find things in common and find things to throw it all out the window. It became a joke sometimes, amongst themselves. For as long as any of them lasted.

He's got no more idea now than he did back then. Vengeance, survival, duty-- none of those things applied to him like others. But he can't miss the way Ekkehardt softens like that to say love. He does too, smiling with that bittersweet ache in his ribs.

"Heh, if you say so." But he'd like to. Dead folks like them had to stick together.

He takes the cane, fingers curling around its handle. It's emboldening, not weakening. Kind of like-- "So love, huh? The same for me. Sort of. My girl is what's really kept me together these past ten years."