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Foggy opened his mouth to reply, not sure what he would say, and then stopped, looking around, and both Matts had gone from tentatively happy to looking almost sick with what he recognized as grief--guilt and horror and fear and disbelief on their faces, terrible memories probably playing at full volume. "I think we need to table that discussion," he said, and sat down gently on the floor, pulling Matt into a hug, letting him hold on tight, breathing so fast he was worried he'd faint.