[ At least Silco's misunderstanding drew a new sound out of Bruno. A bitter laugh cut through the sobbing and he finally began to uncurl, at least enough to push himself up onto his knees, although his head remained bowed and back bent, hands still pressed flat against the stone floor. ]

Easy for you to say, you aren't... you aren't meant to see the future. What was the point of all that? Making me suffer through that. That gift. If it didn't help?

[ It might still mean nothing to Silco. It might come off as simply more inane rambling of a deeply bereaved man, struggling to accept this new reality. Whatever Silco thought, it meant very little to Bruno. ]

Ha, make it better. [ Another hollow sound, laughter devoid of any joy or happiness. He shifted his head, turning it enough to squint at Silco once again through the long locks of thick black hair. ] How? How do you make... any of this? Any of this better?