"I've only heard stories about it." Tom admits while laying his hands on his child's thigh. He's getting to tired to think or the noise had driven his thoughts out. "They're immortal and not made for loss."

It was a simplistic, but true, assessment of the problem. Tom watches the orb but he trusts the elf. This isn't the first time he's seen him around. To Ziggy whose eyes are pressed tightly shut as he tries to block out everything, the orb feels like other hands, more touch, which is relaxing. It would take time for him to be right again but he hasn't even made it to thoughts of recovery yet.

"Thank you for coming." Tom finally says. "There are others but no one seems to be able to stay long before they need a break." His eyes flicker to the booze bottle. "It sounds stupid but if we can get him to drink it will help. Gin helps them sleep and calms their emotions. He keeps refusing."

Tom looked at the pile of shattered glass, violently refusing, but maybe the elf would have better luck than they had so far.