The phone, and Klaha.
Just had to happen, didn't it. He was already annoyed at the man. Couldn't quite remember why right now. Knew it was true, though.
And so he sat, not trusting himself even to open his eyes, knowing that he'd see the destruction again if he did so... let alone get up and move somewhere, even to change out of the torn dress that constantly reminded him of its presence by the draft it created.
And so he just sat there, wallowing in his own thoughts, as blurred and incoherent as they were, with no real hope for a change in sight...-