He can't bring himself to look at Charlie, when even the force of his friend's (and are they, now? Can they ever truly be, when everything he is is just some harbinger of total ruin?) gaze is enough to make him want to throw himself into his fishing hole and breathe in as deep as he can.

He doesn't deserve his grace. Lorick bet on the wrong man.

"...no." His arms cross without thinking, holding himself tight against the cold that has nothing to do with the fire behind him. "John and I, we- w-when we touch a dead body, back home, we can see how they died. John saw a servant of the King kill her."

He shrivels a little more. Hard to believe this was the same man who refused to go willingly with Larson. "I'm sorry, Charlie."