In time, once he's had a chance to let the million points of information settle into a recognizable pattern, he'll be able to cope. He's sure of it. But right now, he can't think about it. He has to be distracted from it. From the screaming and the pain and the way China just will not stop humming --

He abruptly wants to leap to his feet and run, but then Darcy rests her head on his chest and that restless burst of energy evaporates.

"No? At least it wasn't just my singing that upset you so." He wants to ask... but he won't. There's a lot she's said he wants to ask after, but the idea of trying to engage with anything heavier than a sad song upsets him to his core. "How do you feel about Thin Lizzy?"