The warmth of Helex’s arms and smelter soothe him for a few fleeting moments. Tarn shutters his optics and squeezes his comrade a bit tighter to tell him that it’s alright. His hands smooth in quiet circles on Helex’s broad back but he doesn’t make any move to let go. Soon enough he comes back to himself. He wants to scream his frustration against the warm and familiar armor of his teammate, but he can’t even do that. Everything has just gone so wrong. How can he possibly allow Helex, or any other member of the DJD for that matter, to call him a leader.

He’s lost everything in a foolish gamble.

“I-t—“ He hacks a painful sounding wheeze. He wants to talk. He needs to tell Helex that it’s alright. That none of this is his fault.