His lips purse. Someone should have talked to Ren. Someone should have taken a hand with him, let him know he wasn't alone. But he turns the cup to face Crow, passes it gently across the counter, resisting the instinct to bow.

"Listen to me. You could have tried, and it would have made no difference. Ren is like... I don't know, a mirror. You can talk to him, and pry, and look for what he's hiding, and you'll get no deeper than he wants you to. Often not even that. Believe me, I've been trying almost all year."

The coffee rests between them, like a gift.