He wants to respond well before the man's done talking -- of course he can still get mad, of course he still cares -- but something keeps him quiet. Listening.

In general, Edgar isn't given to introspection or insight, trying to figure out his own or anyone else's inner workings. But this one comes to him unbidden: John's telling him all this because he's really trying to tell himself.

For a moment he doesn't know what to do with that, as though someone's handed him a piece of furniture or part of a complicated machine and said here, hold this. But okay, all right; he can hold on to it until John needs it back, and maybe that'll be enough.

"Copy," he says, and nods.