Pratt doesn't know how to respond, how to convince this Carlisle of who he used to be and why they know each other. He's not even sure if he should.

Most of all he just feels sad. Like the last vestiges of hope are melting away. One of the few people he could truly commiserate with and who seemed to understand the guilt and the shame of becoming something you abhor - and that had been taken away and replaced with... well with Carlisle. But not the one he'd befriended.

"I'm not mistaken at all. Here. Look." He reaches into the pocket of his pants, pulling forth a small stone etched with a rune. "You made this for me. For the final battle to help heal me. I used it a lot."

He rubs his thumb over the runes he doesn't understand that channeled a magic he barely believes in. But the item had helped. He'd activated it after he and Law tried to hold off far more enemies than they were capable of and he'd been slammed into a wall. Ultimately it hadn't kept him from dying after he'd been riddled with bullets, but had kept him going far longer than he should have been able to.

All thanks to Carlisle.