"And I thought I was an optimist." Anders glances his way, but he doesn't really seem to see him at all, as much as that improbable skull lying in the sand still seems to have all his attention.

"I don't think it's going to be that easy." His shoulders slouch forward, as he turns back to that eyeless stare and feels the slow waves of its compulsion roll over him. Perhaps if he felt more hopeful, himself, he would find it easier to resist - but the truth of it is he's too used to this kind of loss. He feels it acutely even without the help of their silent friend, there.

"I suppose that's only fitting, though. I've never had anywhere I could call home for long. As soon as I think I've finally got it, someone else who thinks they know what's best for me comes along and takes it away again."