No regrets. No regrets. Wyatt nods into his glass, brow knitted in obvious pain. The rest of his face attempts an outward show of placid stillness, comes up short. He misses DG, damn it, but he misses her, and he doesn't even need to imagine how Glitch must be feeling. He knows all about loss: he doesn't need imagination.

He drains what's left in that first glass of his, then pushes it away in favor of the next one. His hand stays curled around his friend's. "That's... That's what I've been trying to do," he tells Glitch, still quiet and still and trembling faintly.

"I wake up, and I try to make the most of the day, but I can't... I can't think ahead. I don't make plans, I make preparations. Just in case. And it's-- It's good because I can focus on the here and now, but... It's good and bad, because I go to bed worrying about whether I'll still be here in the morning, or if someone else will be gone."

He shakes his head. Blinks slowly. Sighs deep and soft, dismissing his own jumbled train of thought. "I'm such a mess."