Erik exhales once, audibly, through his nose; something like the ghost of a laugh, perhaps strangely timed with the appearance of a deeper crease between his eyebrows. Now his expression becomes sad. Amused, and sad. It is not an expression of regret, though it may appear so. He hates it, too—he hates all of this, all of it—but has expressed it often enough that it must be a given by this time.

"Was it as bad as you expected?"

(Erik is of the opinion that he is entitled to an infinite amount of self-pity right now.)