[Yvain is a decorated veteran, and Helene doesn't know this man—it's clear he's from the other side. She places a finger beneath her top lip, refraining from voicing an opinion either way on Yvain's value. Instead, she says.]

But his survival ensures our own, and that of those around us. That blonde man implied to know you—surely there are those here you're willing to protect?

[The words catch in her throat as she finishes the sentence, and suddenly Larsen's absence looms like an open wound.]