[ she starts shifting around, and he's already putting a hand back on her shoulder, pushing her back to lay, as he goes to find the hinge that'll angle the head of the bed up for her. mostly because it gives him something to do, while he explains this.

because she needs to know this. so that she knows what alva's dealing with. so she can at least try to make it easier. he hears "am i--" and knows what that question is without needing her to finish it. ]

Yes. Alva was the one to do it.

[ he says it simply, and blank, the rest of this all coming in the same empty tone, and andyr's face a stony, unreadable thing, especially given he's going about setting up everything at her bed like nurse. god knows he's watched it happen long enough to memorize it. blanket pulled up, pillows at her back, call button close to her hand, water nearby. ]

The next iteration commit suicide not even a year in. The one after that is the mother of his son.

That's the kid I brought back from Florens.

[ And at that point, he'd run out of things to set up, and just blinks back over to her, features stoic. ]

That's why.