Better. That's better. It doesn't push, doesn't try to force itself into the cracks where Matt is vulnerable and tired and weak. That's unfamiliar, because it always has before, back in -- back before.

The difference is enough to make him lift his head a little, breathing in, breathing out. Listening to the voice, echoing somewhere close enough for his ears to pick up on. "Yeah." It's hoarse, shouted, like he's been screaming for hours.

Maybe he has. "Yeah, I hear you."