"Has he?" Wolfe tries not to look up too quickly at that bit of information. "I haven't broached it with him. I should have, I hope how much she means to him, I just didn't want to somehow make it worse with my own grief."
It was one thing with Morrigan when they both met him and fell in love with him here, but it's entirely another when it's someone Jon has known for years before. Wolfe learned of Sasha through his eyes first, and then literally through Tim's before he'd ever met Sasha himself. "I almost feel like I don't have a right to grief, as silly as that is. I know that's not how that works."
He glances at Chris to make sure he's not going to jump in with consternated corrections on how everyone has a right to their own grief. He knows, and Chris knows he knows. He also knows Wolfe has trouble accepting his own feelings when they're ones he deems as 'bad'. Grief, anger, uncharitable thoughts against those who have done little more than inconvenience him. Those aren't the person he wants to be, but they're the person he is. He's trying to live with it.
He looks back out over the city, wind rustling his hair. "I realized I was mostly afraid of switching not just because I want to support Amelia, and not only because I don't want to be a burden to you, but... Because I don't want to be alone right now. At Shadows' Rest, she and I have our room, but at the Terrace it's my room, and that's... That's daunting right now."
And probably silly, even if not to him. He guesses Chris will tell him whether he thinks so or not with his reply.
"I'm afraid I want more of you than you're willing or able to give. And that feels selfish of me, to ask so much." His hands curl around the metal bar that frames the glass and he leans back, stretching his arms until one shoulder pops. It hurts, but it's the kind that will probably go away on its own. Not like this frustration he has with himself on the inside.
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It was one thing with Morrigan when they both met him and fell in love with him here, but it's entirely another when it's someone Jon has known for years before. Wolfe learned of Sasha through his eyes first, and then literally through Tim's before he'd ever met Sasha himself. "I almost feel like I don't have a right to grief, as silly as that is. I know that's not how that works."
He glances at Chris to make sure he's not going to jump in with consternated corrections on how everyone has a right to their own grief. He knows, and Chris knows he knows. He also knows Wolfe has trouble accepting his own feelings when they're ones he deems as 'bad'. Grief, anger, uncharitable thoughts against those who have done little more than inconvenience him. Those aren't the person he wants to be, but they're the person he is. He's trying to live with it.
He looks back out over the city, wind rustling his hair. "I realized I was mostly afraid of switching not just because I want to support Amelia, and not only because I don't want to be a burden to you, but... Because I don't want to be alone right now. At Shadows' Rest, she and I have our room, but at the Terrace it's my room, and that's... That's daunting right now."
And probably silly, even if not to him. He guesses Chris will tell him whether he thinks so or not with his reply.
"I'm afraid I want more of you than you're willing or able to give. And that feels selfish of me, to ask so much." His hands curl around the metal bar that frames the glass and he leans back, stretching his arms until one shoulder pops. It hurts, but it's the kind that will probably go away on its own. Not like this frustration he has with himself on the inside.