He was fighting hard to hold himself together. He wanted to hold himself together, to not let himself think to hard but he wasn't sure he could keep himself from losing it. He'd had a distraction before but now it was gone, his mind was playing over how this all happened.

There was a small jerk of his lips at that comment about being their loss, and so he couldn't help himself. It felt good, but when he nodded, his gaze caught on something.

"Uhmmm, yeah," he said, not looking at Dylan. He crossed the room, dipping down to pick something up, pressing it to the center of his palm as his hand balled into a fist. It was the bullet that had popped out of Dylan's skull. He left the gun where it was. "Sure. That works. Your clothes that is," he said, turning and looking to Dylan. "Sure. Lead on."