"Shh, don't apologize. It wasn't your fault." He turns his hand in Jet's, gripping hard, as if he could hold Jet there with him by sheer force of will. "None of it's your fault, Spätzchen."

He spares a glance to Chaud's body, curled over and away as if just sleeping, but he's too still, unnaturally still, and Albert knows better. "It's this place. This world. Don't take that fault on yourself."

With a swallow, he bends down, pressing his forehead against Jet's and settling more on his hip than his knees, intending to stay for as long as it takes. At least this time he'll be here with Jet when the end comes. For now, it's better to keep talking. Take his mind from what's obviously a painful wound and the seeping cold Albert knows comes next. "What did he look like? The man who attacked you."