[ He winces at her admission, at the way she folds in on herself. It’s all too familiar, really, and something he grappled with without success for years before Chisolm dragged him along to Rose Creek. The dreams always came, no matter how much he ran, no matter how much he drank, no matter how much he staved off sleep.

Now, he has some form of peace, and as terrible as his nightmares were, they no longer plague him; but he can’t exactly offer “try dying” as a valid form of advice. Faraday may be a fool, but he’s not that much of a bastard to make a joke like that. ]

Wish I knew, myself.

[ And there’s a touch of regret in his voice. Emma has been kind to him for ages now, despite his tricks, despite his purposeful attempts at being infuriating, despite the two of them not being the best of friends in life. She’s suffered his presence with surprising aplomb, and naturally, when it comes time for him to return the favor in some meaningful way, he comes up short.

Isn’t that just the way? ]

Never really could shake ‘em. Tried my damnedest, though. Ran and ran and ran, but they always caught up.

[ He pauses, tries for another little smile, even if she isn’t looking his way. ]

So I can at least suggest not tryin’ that.