Despite his watery eyes, Carlisle looks to Glacius as the alien reassures him -- he's always having to reassure him, offering the clergyman more compassion than he feels he deserves.

"I don't think he could have possibly felt anything," he rasps, his breath unsteady. "He was surely a trick of the false gods, meant to destroy us, and nothing more. They don't feel the way we do about anything... about each other."

He runs his hand along Glacius' jaw as he says that, though he can't quite figure out for the life of him exactly what it is he and Glacius do feel. Companionship? Camaraderie? Or something that's harder to name, that becomes more frightening the closer they get?