The ice alien flinches back as Carlisle snaps at him, but the words that follow are even worse still. The man speaks of doubts and worries that Glacius has always had about himself, except now instead of that voice staving them off it is reinforcing them--driving them home like a hot spike cracking apart his icy armor. Not even treating him like a person or even a sentient creature, but calling him a thing--steadily stripping him of the value that he'd felt had been building up in the clergyman's eyes.

What was it he had said before? He shouldn't worry about other humans when he has the finest one staunchly at his side? What does that mean for him, now that same human is forsaking him?

Shaking, Glacius hangs his head, feeling a sort of devastation the likes of which he has never experienced before. He doesn't know what to say--what can one say, when a close friendship that you've been building up for months has been torn out form underneath you and your worth is being devalued? He can't get his footing. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't know... I was just trying to be a good friend to you, Carlisle. I only wanted you to be happy..."

But it seems he's failed in that, too, just like he's failed so many other people that are important to him in this cave. Perhaps this is what he deserves.