"Smith." Chris voice, his tone, caused several people to look in his direction. The other man didn't stop, though, and he debated whether or not he should follow.
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world, The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere The ceremony of innocence is drowned; The best lack all conviction, while the worst Are full of passionate intensity.
Yeats was a complicated fellow, to say the least. Chris walked across the street, catching the other man's arm near the elbow to avoid his injury. "There is nothing mere about the anarchy which was loosed upon the world this past week, nor should what happened, your part in it, be written off as nothing more than a fluke. I'm not sure what's happened to you in your life that you think so little of yourself, of your gifts and talents, but I've rarely seen someone who could handle a situation like the one you went through quite so well. So calm down, take a breath. Leave Clare with Judith, get some sleep, repair what needs repairing, and we'll figure out what's happening with those mirrors of yours."
Low and intent, Chris was careful to look Smith in the eye as he spoke - honest. Whatever else happened, he was serious about working out the issues with the mirrors, helping if he could, where he could.