"I hear you," she says simply. He's right to think she doesn't understand - addiction like this has never been in her life - but she understands the need to stay with a habit that's destroying you. The need to hold onto something even when you know it can, has, and will only bring you and your loved ones pain. The need to hide and pretend everything is fine to hold onto a façade that's been in place for so long that letting it down feels impossible. It helps her stay steady as she watches him crumble, piece by piece, to the foundation of his being so he can start again.

Her hand rests gently against the table between them, unmoving as she watches her friend with worried eyes.

"I know. He told me so himself." Amelia hopes this won't be too much for him to hear. She doesn't want to drive him back to denial, but this is a truth that needs to be shared. "He worries for you, about what the ale and mead is doing to you. He didn't want you to be alone - and neither do I. So I'm here to help however I can, even if all I can do for now is listen."