"Forty-one years," he murmurs, glancing upwards. He's in his own head. He knows the one year difference doesn't matter that much, but it matters to him. He remembers that year in particular perfectly, and he's been squeezing down on his ragged grief for most of the day. He swallows roughly.

He forces his attention back to them, smiling weakly. "Me too. Did you... see any of that weird stuff before the monster showed up?"