[He waits, ever resisting the urge to reach out. He can't offer that, even if he can swallow the itch on his own skin, interrupting this for Cliff with old fears is not the way to go. He offers what he can, which is time and an open hand and his presence, however much an offer any of those really are.

When things seem to ease for Cliff-- not stop, but veer onto getting there-- then he allows himself to speak.]

You're going to see them again. You'll see your mother, your brother. You'll go home. Everything will be exactly where you left it. I promise. I'll make sure of it myself if I've got to.

[He's already learned of ways. He might not have anywhere else but Hell to go, but he can find a way for Cliff to be where he needs to.]