[Saying it sucks feels a bit like an understatement. It's also such a modern phrasing that it makes his mouth twitch, even when the topic doesn't actually get better.

There's something about it, the knowledge that Cliff wouldn't choose. Nekane's always known that if he could, he'd choose Coco in a heartbeat. He wonders what it makes of him.

He shakes his head at the suggestion of a letter. She's not his Coco and she doesn't need some added pain to her life. His own Coco might finally be free of hers.]

An Alebrije...?

[The little wolf is offered and reaches out slow, with all the care that he reached for that photo in the cenote. The figure itself holds no meaning for him. It reminds of home and his home in the land of the dead, but beyond, it's just a figure. Except, it was she gave, something she held. She wanted to be remembered. He runs a calloused thumb over its side.]

I was out. Preforming. It was... a rather enthusiastic wedding. The party went all night and I played just as long. I came home exhausted. I just wanted to collapse into bed. I can't remember if I did or if she caught me before I made it there. This little thing so upset. She'd thought I'd forgotten about her. That moment, I thought I was at once six years old and two hundred.

I reassured her, went to bed, and when I woke up, I worked on a song. Imelda always had to remind me to get out of the room and eat something when I wrote, but I don't think I'd ever felt so guilty as I had while writing that song. Shut up in a room or out in town... I had to work, but she was my world. I wanted her to know that, even if we couldn't always see each other or say goodnight, she'd always be there in my mind.

[He passes the little wolf back, just as careful.]

Do you want to see her picture? It's not on me, but, I can bring it out.