[The touch lingers just enough to be supportive, but not long enough to be awkward, and he glances out over the beach from the small window in the lighthouse tower. It sounds like this is hard for Tony, and he can only begin to imagine without knowing the full story, but he knows what it's like, to be desperate to pick up your own pieces while wondering if you even deserve to.]

Then believe that until it's true, and make the future better. You can't change the past anyway. Trust me, what-ifs will just eat you up inside until there's nothing left. [When he says that, his eyes go toward the door that leads into the cozy little house, where the memory of his son is.]