[It's worse, now. Charles feels scattered, like everything about him is running away in opposite directions. Like he's breaking apart at the seams just from being here with Israel.

And -- well, he thinks, what was so wonderful about those seams anyhow? Since when had he pieced himself together with more than spit and bailing wire?

He takes a seat, leaning his elbows on his knees.]

And I'm used to sharing emotions, on some level. I've always thought that telepathy was a better option for communication than the spoken tongue.