[Goes with him, not trusting himself to move much on his own, to say much else after that confession, some of the strength seeping from his shoulders at the admission of guilt, of weakness. He's nothing but weak and pathetic, no matter what he does. He's the useless one.]
[So he flies with him, his gaze a little unfocused, still painfully aware of all their movements even as they leave the island behind, able to sense and smell each human nearby - wanting that blood all for himself.]