*spreads his hands at his sides, his manner wide open, vulnerable in a way that few see on a regular basis (and you, of course, have not seen it in recent memory at all)*
*meets your gaze soberly ("glad" isn't quite what he was going for, somehow)* Glorfindel, I didn't know if I was coming back. To anyone, or anything. *hesitates* I, ah. I really thought I was going to be... like that. Forever. *shrugs, trying not to withdraw (this is so much harder than he'd expected)* Or until (I) it killed (myself again) me. Whichever came first.