Drake tenses at that, and like this he can't hide it. His fingers go still in his friend's hair and he lets out a slow breath before his grip tightens again. Careful not to scratch as he holds on.

"I'm glad you didn't," he tells Ephemera softly, "even though it hurts."

He's going to die anyway, they both know, but. That's not here. Here, he's going to be fine. He's going to deal with this shit.

"Maybe it'll help, if you could see him as something other than a killer."