[There was a time that he might have been upset to realize that Kyle was withholding the truth from him based on the assumption that he was too young, too soft, to handle it. But he doesn't fault him for it now. It's deeply personal and achingly raw, everything surrounding his sister, and it's not easy to share that sort of thing. Wilhelm shakes his head, his gaze settling on Kyle.]

It's not.

[Once or twice, when loneliness flays like a knife and his grief rises up like the tides, he has considered it. Creating a version of Erik here in the Horizon, just so he could hear his voice again. Just so he could throw his arms around him, and this time he wouldn't have to go. But he remembers how sharply it cut, the time Wanda conjured a version of Erik from his memories with her wild power. It looked exactly like his brother, and sounded exactly like him, but it wasn't real. It wasn't him.

It hurt too much. But if having some piece of his sister around, even if she's just a collection of memories, brings Kyle peace...then Wilhelm can't judge him for it. Plucking a new blade of grass, he points it toward the parked Ferrari.]

That's the car my brother was driving when... [A slow breath.] When it happened. He was going too fast and lost control.

[Erik...Erik is dead. He can still hear his mom's voice on the other end of the phone. He's grateful that the sunglasses hide his watery eyes.]

I guess you could say it's the thing that killed him. And here I am, joyriding around in it. If you want to talk about morbid.