Ellever takes a deep, steadying breath as she processes the slack look on Soldat's face, so different from when they'd danced or even just the last time they'd seen each other. It's distressing to see her friend so upset and have very little to actually do about it.

"In... shifts, right? Not all at once?" she asks, tone almost hesitant.

Sometimes, such as that time when he'd been unloading the ferry, she feels confident enough in her connection to people — and Soldat — that she feels she can impart advice. Sometimes it just feels wooden and disconnected, though, and this feels like one of those times. How could she possibly tell someone how to grieve?