[He watches the way Roderick sits, the way he holds his shoulders. Deliberate, nervous, waiting. Dillon takes a little while to try and get straight what he wants to say, but there's never a right enough thing to say for things like this; in the end Dillon gives it up, because it seems worse to keep him waiting long.]

I'm sorry.

[A little raspy, but clear, not half-swallowed.]

It wasn't me, but. It could have been, and I'm the one who's here, and you were still hurt. So.

For whatever it's worth to you, I'm sorry.