Finding himself uncomfortable around the Fool seems to be a running theme. It's not the thinly masked display of emotion that Devin finds disquieting; what bothers him most is not knowing how to help. His expertise is in action, and his ability to read people has always been directed towards manipulation and violence and survival. Grasping for comforting words that have genuine foundations is like reaching across an abyss. He stares into his tea, and the milky liquid provides no insight.

"I did wonder," he says at length, allowing a stretch of silence to hold the somber declaration. "I hadn't seen him at the Bridge, or when I went looking for him." But he hadn't wanted to assume. Devin's tracking skills were not infallible, and he had not made an exhaustive search. And, perhaps for the Fool's sake, he had hoped Fitz was simply avoiding him.

Devin fiddles with the mug, turning it back and forth in place slowly. "I'm sorry, Fool. This place is… splendid and terrible, for what it gives and takes."