[There is something unspoken hanging after that statement and even without bending the wall between narration and actions taken, it is obvious.

Eric hangs his head, his hair, even as bedraggled as it is, falling to hide most of his face.]

It's hard to see any blessings at all in a place like this, isn't it? That you're alive, yes, I can see that. That we've met. But it's... God, they couldn't have been less rational if they'd all brought pitchforks and torches.