"Hey," said Tragos, stiff as a board, deeply uncertain and deeply suspicious of that smile. He could stand there, just give the man a sharp nod and nothing else, leave him hanging as a way to grasp back a little power in a world where he felt like he'd lost all of his own, but it felt too disrespectful to Melpomene, so he moved forward and clapped his hand around Alan's. There was a little more strength that he expected in Alan's handshake, like maybe there was some kind of muscle hidden under his sleeves.
Their hands released and Tragos looked back toward Melpomene. "I should go," he said. She'd given him something to hold onto, and he would, desperately, as he fought for a way to keep Kaden, but for now he needed to be back at Marcie's side. One battle at a time, even though Marcie's battle was one she wouldn't win. She'd die fighting it. The least he could do was witness her. "Thank you," he said, his voice ravaged, and he swallowed to try and steady it. The swallowing only made the painful throbbing spot below his jaw where Apollo had - moments ago - shoved the barrel of a gun, throb all the harder.
"You're an artist when it comes to survival," Melpomene told him. "Whatever else you lose, you're still that."
There weren't words to respond to that one. Tragos gave her a look of gratitude and agony, but left before it could take over more than just his eyes.