On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

"Luo Binghe. Try not to let him kiss you or offer you food." It's wry, flippant, unsuiting for the situation, but he's looking at Galahad -- the man he knows as Galahad -- across from him with hand still clasped, his breath short even from that brief struggle to hold on. "So you don't have it all back, and what you have back isn't helpful. It wasn't helpful before, you know. I don't think you were any happier then, knowing who made you and why He made you this way. If you want to know why you told me you were made like this, I can. But I missed you, Galahad. I'd rather spend this time with you than pacing the hallways fearing my imminent death."