[He runs a hand through his hair -- it's more absent than anything, a rare fidget -- and seems to be thinking it over. His feelings about the whole thing, now that the kneejerk ones have run their course... they're too complicated for him to sort them out tonight. Maybe for a while yet. It feels like that feeling of failure earlier in the week has just... built upon itself.

He's used to carrying things like this, but sometime when he'd looked away it had become something crushing enough that it's hard to see beyond it. And the actual execution is... something else altogether.]

... I should have let Talcott do what he needed to do. He wanted to-- [he stumbles for a moment, a brief shudder] --end it himself.

[Anyone who had been watching the execution closely probably saw him move unnaturally, trying to stop him. Jerkily, like he didn't quite intend to move but did anyway.]