"It's too early for a drink." he says, brows knit but voice weary and sympathetic. He disapproves, of course, but it's not like he doesn't understand the temptation to want to numb everything.

Perhaps it's to be expected, but he had his reasons to be so straight-laced. Structure and rules were the only things that made sense when the rest of the world was chaotic. It was the only way he kept going. Miguel is softened by his own grief, though, and he doesn't keep up the dour expression for very long. The creases on his face ease over as he begins to mull over what to do now. No easy answers lie ahead for them. He's never felt more lost.

"You haven't said much about Ellie." he says. "What would you make for her?"

That's where the conversation began, after all. Remembering them.