Crichton is easy to shepherd along. He walks listlessly, lips pressed together to keep it all bottled up inside as hard as he can until they get to somewhere private. He doesn't quite make it there, because he, irrationally, feels the need to make sure the blame stays on him and not on Arthur at all. Or Wayne.

"Yeah? Did anyone else go back in time and ruin the memories of the last days a man spent with his daughter? Pretty sure that was just me..."