[He doesn't say anything for a while, again. Maybe Alfie has part of some other conversation in the meantime, while the only sound from Enoch's end is that of him quietly crying.]

I don't feel as if I haven't moved for four days.

[He wanted to help! But...but, no, when the first thing out of his mouth is the first thing he feels and he can't work up the energy to say too much at once...he can't.]

I don't know anymore.

[The very first person that comes to mind was in those cells. Everyone else he can think of was, too, or was connected to one of them. Are they still his friends?]

[And that he's getting comfort from the man he tortured feels horribly selfish. His thoughts twist in on themselves, heavy self-loathing crowding out any comfort he might actually have been able to take. It takes him a while more to speak, because every time he attempts to say again how he feels, compelled by his death price, it's cut off in bitter tears.

Eventually, his mind finds a thought that doesn't invoke sobbing before he can speak it.]

I owe you...anything. Everything. I'll do whatever I can.

[He flinches - not really audible save a catch in his breath that might be mistaken for an attempt to keep tears quiet.]

I...I still want- if you think of anything, anything at all that could...

[Help? Set things right? There is no helping what has been done and no righting this, is there? The thought of it acts as its own censor to his mind that won't otherwise, and he dissolves into tears again.]