James tries to maintain a stoic face as she speaks but little by little it begins to crack. A twitch of his lips, a downcast glance, until finally his expression droops completely into weary discouragement. Except it's not even the news that they haven't made much progress that gets to him. It's something else.

"You will be able to go back to her."

There should be hope in hearing those words but James feels nothing. No, not nothing — not entirely, anyway. There's a flash of dread and anguish and an awful, awful gnawing guilt that settles in and sits heavy in his gut.

But that's just... It's because he knows if Mary really is waiting for him (she has to be) (it can't all be for nothing), she's going to wait so much longer without ever knowing he's here.

So he has to work harder. He has to learn this place. He has to get out.

He clears his throat.

"I think I understand. So... what can I do to help?"