Glacius watches the entire process with some alarm, closing his hand over the Mote immediately to wink it out as Carlisle pulls away. He gives the cleric a few minutes to regather himself, then holds him against his broad chest once more. "It will have to do, I suppose," the alien murmurs, hoping that what his partner received will be enough to keep him going.

He heaves a sad, weary sigh, not feeling at all like he's helped in the way he has wanted to. "What say we head home? You need rest, and I need a chance to think, to figure this out."