"My comrades are here," Aramis tells him, brows still drawn in concern. Cinna seems like a very, very nice man and has clearly suffered trauma. He owes Aramis nothing. "I was actually the last of our group to arrive, he says, bringing over the wine for Cinna to drink; it is the least he can do. "The other had been here - more or less - for nearly a year when I was here."

He gives his head a shake, tucking a lock of hair behind his ear. "I do not claim to understand time here. It seems to stop, picking up when we return to our homes, no matter how long we have been here."