[Carlisle nods, turning to let Qubit examine his reflection for a moment. He never found much comfort in his own, frankly. It changed significantly over the course of a handful of years: his hair faded from the auburn red of his father to a dull brown, and eventually greyed entirely; the shadows under his eyes grew darker with age, yet his eyes themselves glowed brighter and brighter as his affliction consumed him from within. By the end, he hardly recognized who he was, seeing that portrait above the mantle in the study as someone he used to know.

And then he died, and his reflection changed again. He's still working on accepting that drastic shift and all the consequences that came with it, but needless to say, it's not an improvement.]

That's when one must accept that they cannot fix everything for everyone, no matter how much they would like to. There will always be individuals who refuse to give the penitent another chance, but atonement is not just about forgiveness in the eyes of others. It must also come from within ourse—

[He glances Qubit's way, catching that look of realization.]

What? What is it?