If Hopeless wasn't going to push him away, Erskine wasn't letting go. He thoughtlessly allowed himself to be led into Anton's office and into a chair, even that little bit of consciousness taking a back seat to the turmoil in the front. For a long while the turmoil won out--there weren't any specific lines of thought so much as vague images, death and war and overwhelming loss. He barely noticed when Anton hugged the two of them, although a moment later, as the tears slowed and he blinked against Hopeless, he became acutely aware that no one else had bothered.

Ghastly he could understand, to a degree. Hopeless was his brother, but Erskine was his murderer. Saracen... this was his father. Was staying away from Erskine more important than hugging his father? Hopeless didn't deserve that.

Eventually Erskine pulled away, just far enough to scrub his hands over his face without breaking contact with Hopeless completely, still curled against Hopeless's side. Hunched over, he sighed into his hands. When he lifted his head a moment later his eyes were red. It was still hard to breathe, hard to accept that they were all really here, that they were really doing this. Someone was going to bring it up. Almost a year in Keeliai and while he'd imagined Ghastly or the others arriving, from time to time, he'd never actually figured out what he would say.

He winced at the mention of the Accelerator, curling a little tighter against Hopeless's side. "He's been here longer than I have," he answered, his voice hoarse. "Anton and Skulduggery both. Rover's been here before, just before I arrived last year." It wasn't much help, but it was the best he could offer at the moment.