[The crunch of footsteps makes Kratos catch his breath, bite his lip to try and keep in the tears; but the gentle, hesitant touch to his shoulder makes that impossible. The force of emotions in him aren't the sort that can be contained; only weathered.

[He manages only to keep wailing to a minimum, contained in ragged breathing and choked sobs. It seems to take forever before it all eases, and even still he feels as though he's still bearing a dagger to his heart; but at least he can take deep breaths and start to comport himself with some dignity.

[He doesn't hear a nearly-silent footfall outside, a patter left by a child passing by; but if Yuan looks, he will find the corridor empty, save for a small bouquet of slightly wilted orchids at the doorstep.]