As Esteban pulls back, Tidus settles himself; a drop that's awkward to make, but he does, one leg wrapped loosely around the other. Taking in a breath, an emptiness to his body, his weight. It's like a mission, how numb he feels - and once they can finally stop, he'll likely treat the aftermath the same too, crashing in bed for a couple of days.

"We'll find them." He's not sure what to do with apologies, how else to answer 'that I made you relive it' -- when it's always a permanent loss, yet Tidus knows that Esteban isn't trying to imply otherwise. But it is what it is, a state of being - what those who care about those lost deal with. Have to deal with.

A constant weight, a knowledge. And that it's either getting them back, or not.