Dias scowled in Maya's general direction. So perhaps she'd lost a sister, too...that didn't mean that she had any right to give him advice on how to handle his own grief. "Don't think you're qualified to tell me how I should or shouldn't feel," he growled. "I'm sorry about your sister, but just because something bad happened to you doesn't mean you can understand what happened to me - you don't know anything about it."

Dias turned away then, stretching out on the bed with his back to the girl across the room...not that he'd be going to sleep for awhile(if at all, with the sickening new knowledge that even Cecille's afterlife wasn't peaceful; believing her to be in heaven and happy was one of the very few consolations he'd had over the past eight years), but he hoped it would signal a definitive end to the conversation.

He found his fingers absentmindedly tracing over the deep scar on his abdomen and jerked them away. He was not going to think about that, not with other people around. Some things were too private.