"It's a goddamn waste. All of this." he shakes his head, gesturing to the cards. "I wish I could say I didn't get it-- but the whole history of the world is about dividing ourselves into creeds and factions and types, and seeking out reasons to fight."

He gives her a quick scan-over. A physician's check. A friend's concern. She looks good-- on the outside, at least.

On the inside-- well, that isn't his field.

"And I'd tell you it wasn't your fault, but how do I know? I was a coward. The Detective Inspector offered me a case in the North, and I happily agreed. I went away, while everyone else gave a damn."

Is he guilty? Maybe a tiny bit.