"I'm sorry." Dave said quietly, running his fingers through his hair again and wishing, wishing that Marijuana was aware enough to enter his mind and give him some sort of reassurance. "I wish I could have. I wish I did." He took a tentative step toward Dylan. "I know. I know how hard this is, how confusing it is, how small you feel. When I found out-" He broke off, the image of Marijuana's dead body in the dirt rising up in his mind and Dave shuddered lightly. "I love you, Dylan. And there's nothing to do. Nothing but try to process it and try to continue on with your life. I know it's- saying that isn't helpful at all. But I'm here. I know. At the very least, I'm someone to talk to about all this."