I don't mess with them. I help them. I tell them things they need to hear, and then they don't need me any more. Remembering me would frighten them. That's why I help them forget.

[ He gives the feed a long, searching look. His stare is too off to be called piercing - he seems to be looking behind people when he stares at them, rather than directly at them - but there's a weird intensity to it nonetheless. ]

I could have helped you, how I was. You're hurting, or frightened. I can't feel it, but it's there. On your face.

I'm sorry for what happened.

[ Whatever it was. ]