Carlisle had expected a much different answer than the barrage of anguish he's met with, but as Glacius starts talking, starting with an affirmation that he's not weak -- who would think that, other than Algidus? -- he can't help that gutting realization that he's said the wrong thing.

"You're not—" he starts, but Glacius keeps going before he can get a word in. "No no no, I never thought that you—" He doesn't get that out in its entirey, either. "You're not a thing, and—"

And then the alien is hanging his head so low that Carlisle can reach him again... and the clergyman does, putting his hand at the side of Glacius' face, leaning forward in spite of the stiffness in his chest to offer his friend that sign of solidarity they so often shared.

"I felt the same," he finally admits. "I thought you would be better with me elsewhere, no longer a burden to you, but"— he stifles another cough, his fingers curling against Glacius' scar, then unleashes a torrent of words of his own— "but I couldn't- couldn't bear the thought of- of that emptiness, and not having you around when you make me feel- feel truly safe for the first time in so long, and" —cough— "and I- I hoped you wouldn't ask me to leave. I... I don't want to leave."

He stops there, both the weight of what he admitted and his own exhaustion hitting him.