The whispers are still there, memories Jim can't rid himself of no matter how much time has passed. No matter how much he says he's moved on the wounds still linger. Raw as the day they were gouged into him whenever they're pressed upon. This Winter was a cruel reminder. Close enough that Jim could see himself being swallowed up but could do nothing to stop it. And he'd willing step back into those shadows knowing that Isidor and his other friends were all suffering still.

Without the experience Jim has, how good are their chances? By now Isidor must have learned much from him. She's competent, willing to make the hard choices no one wants to make. Willing to shoulder hate and ridicule if it means they all survive. And so Jim is angry, yes. Angry he was taken away from a situation where he could help. Where he could try to prevent anyone else form having the memories he does. The desperation he did to do whatever necessary to secure enough food for himself and those important to him.

"Do you like everything I tell you? You can't approve of half of the things I choose to do...." The hand not steadying Felix's shoulder reaches up to cup his cheek gently, fingers brushing that streak of white but not lingering on it.

"I know it's not easy. I've lied my way through every day of my life up until...you."