Rafe wanted to believe that James could hold that much together, but he recalled the times that James referred to his sire. That he saw vampirism as a gift and there was an admiration there. "James," Rafe took a few steps closer and stood before him. He wanted to demand an answer but he knew he had to tread carefully. James and him had a difficult relationship, if it could even be called that. Rafe attempted to get to know the boy but also had to step in to reprimand him too. James, thus far, had been lukewarm to Rafe's attempts to connect.
"Not long ago you said that there were no faulty there for your mother's accident, for the burning of your school and your classmates within, your father's distance, and your brother's death," Rafe said, "But I am here because your sire is dead and the manner of his death was especially violent. I know it's a lot to ask you to talk to me but I'm asking."
James carried himself the way many adults could never manage in their lifetime. He also had buried feelings of resentment and pain. "I'm not here to pass judgement. I'm here because I'm your head of house and your teacher, and I know that your sire is—was probably the first person in your life that you trusted."