[Thus, understanding. Rip shrugs in helpless agreement, yes, it’s done it quite nicely, even if in the telling it all sounds rather pathetic to him. He scrubs a hand briefly over his face—a mistake, as there’s still grease and likely some mayonnaise on his fingertips—only to let out a long sigh when Sunburst asks how he might be able to help.]

Regretfully not. She cancelled our appoint--[No, wait. He’s being honest here, isn’t he?]--our date tonight to speak with him. Told me she’s sorry.

[Sunburst would understand what that might mean, would he? Rip lets out a sad little laugh—but even so. He continues on. More than he should, probably, but frankly?

It feels a bit good to be able to tell someone the whole of it.]

I can’t exactly blame her. I’ve spent a large portion of the day wondering what I might do if my wife were to be brought here.