He sucks in a deep breath, then nods. He's been told it so many time over the last hour - slow down, breathe out, breathe in, take it slow - that he's actually starting to be able to do it when someone asks him. He's never felt like this before, like he had absolutely no control on how his own body responded to things.

"Sorry, I -- Sorry." It's a shameful apology, and every time Bodhi tries to catch his eyes, his own slide away. "It's - Yeah. My- my wife. My ex-wife. My son. But they're on Mars. They ain't here, and if they were, they wouldn't - even if they hate me, they wouldn't do that--"