"I'd be fine not mattering much at all, at this point," Soldat says, folding their arms on their knees and resting their chin on them. "I spent seventy years mattering a whole lot, and it wasn't really worth it." (Handler. And the kid. All right, fine, you're right.) "Maybe only mattering for a few people," they amend.

Watching Ardyn, the moment of eye contact over but gaze on his face at least, they ask, "What matters, to you? What would you want to do that matters?" A pause. "If that isn't too many questions. You can tell me to stop any time. I will."