Spencer stared, something tight clenching around his heart. He reached out with his free hand slowly and then let it drop without going anywhere near it, all the same. It felt awful and cruel and achingly familiar, and Spencer thought that even without William bringing him here after the dream, had he stumbled upon it in some other way, he'd have known it.
"Is that -- my scarf," he said, and it wasn't a question, not really, he knew the answer. His mouth twisted. "But someone had to do that deliberately."