Charlie watches Arthur's face, and is just so fucking frustrated to feel bad for him. Adjusting back, coming to terms, is... a nightmare. It's just a nightmare. It's thinking of what happened as a nightmare that gets him through days, meals, sometimes. He nods, slowly, his mouth a line.

"I get it. It's... tough to shake that kinda thing. Feels sometimes like you shouldn't try to."

Not that that stops him from trying. But they're beating at him now. Names. Names, and ones whose names he didn't get. There's a returning anxiety in the way he moves his hands.