"..."

The woman's pity feels strange. Misplaced, and not just because he doesn't deserve it. It's a more direct and misplaced comparison to Siffleur, who was - as John is understanding it through her telling of it - born in that in-between. John, on the other hand, had never been human. Nothing happened to him; he happened to other people.

"... Thank you." He settles on. He has to keep his eyes on her face and not the shard in her skull.