[Carlisle wrings his hands tighter, reddening at the fact that Michael would consider them friends, despite... well, him being him. Michael is right, though -- there have been more times than not that Carlisle could commiserate with him, given they are both cursed, damned to their respective fates.]

I... I do. I mean, I believe I do. I want to understand.

[Which, if he truly does, he should probably be honest instead of shoving his obvious affliction under the figurative rug.]

I- I suppose there is something I feel. Now. Nowish. Now that you're here.