It had been so hard to believe that anyone really cared about him when he'd been possessed. Once, Anders had thought his perceptions reality, that they'd all been judging him and looking down on him. The longer he goes without Justice, though, the more he sees he'd been wrong and it's difficult to deal with. How much of the paranoia had been him, and how much of it had been the spirit? Did it matter?

Anders is looking away as she thanks him, still trying to find some way to respond to what's being said.

"Of course," he finally says. "Look. I..." Anything he can say won't really do anything. It's all the past, and she's not so angry that she's stabbing him, at least. Anders reaches up and rubs the back of his neck as he sighs.

"It was a mess. For my part, I'm sorry, Aveline."