...He feels responsible. For Insomnia, for what awaits him in Altissia. For you. For me.

[He's quiet a minute, and then his voice goes lower; what's coming isn't something that he finds easy to say, but sometimes being a good advisor means saying the things that aren't easy, and that no one else wants to.]

The Marshal, however righteous his intentions, did a number on him in that respect, I think.

[It's not the sort of thing one unhears, after all. It doesn't just go away. Perhaps it never will.]

...I hate the thought of him having to go somewhere I can't follow, you know.