There was the temptation to offer comfort beyond the embrace, to give his love with his words, to tell Dave that everything was going to be alright. He couldn't do it, not now, he couldn't bring himself to say those words, to lull Dave into a false sense of security with the kind of good lie that would bring him rest. He could feel the older man's weakness as he took steps backwards into the apartment. He sniffed, "You're half gone already." He murmured, his voice thick as his fingers caressed the curve of Dave's back comfortingly. "We can't keep going like this." He murmured, "You're gonna die-" His voice caught on the word and he shuddered, "You're so thin and you look so sick-" He began to mumble, "-and I don't know what to do with you."