He looked down, scratching at his head, trying just as hard to think as he'd been trying not to think a few moments ago. "Uh," he said finally. "I think I looked everywhere I thought he might be already. So. No. Sorry." He sighed and pressed his fingers against his eyes, hard enough to see light dancing behind his lids. "Sorry," he repeated. "I mean. I don't think he can be too far. We haven't been apart since a century and a half and he was all the way across the country then. But since then we were never apart I mean never. And I haven't died since then so I think we got too close or not close enough and I dunno Iris I'm sorry." He was getting agitated again, his hands pressing hard enough against his eyes to hurt, to distract him from the pain of missing half of himself.