[ It's not an understanding Holland would expect. Indeed, it feels strange to find familiarity in another's gaze at the mention of it. But perhaps it isn't so strange -- the other Londons had all been better off than his own, but that didn't mean their worlds were all the same.

He can't decide if he feels better or worse knowing with certainty that his world isn't the only one where people are generally awful to one another. Slavers, and people who stole and bled others for profit, are as sure as the sun in the sky.

It's too bad, really, that Fenris' words draw a painful smile from Holland, his green eye pierced with anger, while his face plays off his best indifferent grin. ]

If only I could have killed them. If only.

[ No, the Danes were surely dead, but that was a pleasure that Holland was not afforded. For a variety of reasons, though he does find himself adding more: ]

Had I been conscious, I would have been forced to defend their lives. Perhaps it's better that I was unconscious for whatever fate befell them.

[ He does not, in fact, think it would have been better. But logically, he knows this is true. ]