In a sense, Carlisle is having his own words handed back to him, albeit with more strain and rasping, given the state of Glacius' gills. The message, however, is the same: if he'd left at any point before, even under the pretense of it being in Glacius' best interest, the alien -- his friend -- would be dead. He's told Glacius that many times, and it's been true in every case: when they were faced with the shade of Cinder, when Emily was taken by a demon, when Carlisle's own double left him for dead.

It is true now, as it has always been. Their own individual sense of guild and inclination to shoulder responsibility may say otherwise, but without one another, where would they be?

He closes his eyes against the cool of Glacius' forehead against his own; it quells his headache for a time, grants him some solace from his own troubles. The alien may be covered in ice, but Carlisle can feel some warmth stirring in him from the depths of his chest. It's a good feeling, despite the circumstances that brought them to that moment.

"As am I with you," he answers finally.