See Federico would ask about the eyes if he wasn't used to seeing weirder nonsense on Terra. It's still a relief when the strange color fades, when the eyes close.

He remains still, watching, at attention. A silent vigil of his own.

Her fist impacts the mirror, and he twitches. There's blood. "Signora-"

She wants him to take her to the place. His breath catches. It's...can he remember where? It's all a blur when he ran...still he nods. "I will endeavor to do so. Follow me." And he steps down the hall without further preamble.

"No need to apologize, Signora." Actually yeah she should. But guy's in sort of self deprecation mode. "He is. Was. My friend." Which doesn't sound like alot. But Sunday was the first to point it out, that they were friends. Federico has trusted colleagues and coworkers, not friends. For Sunday to openly want him around as just Federico...not an Executor.

Not that any of that could save him in the end.

A sister's grief...would Arturia grieve him in such a way if he died? ...he's. Not sure...it did hurt to learn she'd been here, then died. "I...think I'm beginning to," he replies, softly.

As they walk, he can see her tears dripping, and the blood trickling down her hand. His jaw tenses. Protect the others. Please.

"Signora Robin. You should...tend to that, as we walk. It will take some time, after all." He produces a red handkerchief with the suggestion, offering it to her.

It's the same one he'd given Sunday when they met. It's been washed since, of course, but the familiarity makes his chest ache.