"It's okay," his voice is soothing, low. There's a particular pitch to Jesus's voice when he's trying to comfort someone; it's comfort offered by someone who has seen the world end and still believes what he's saying.

He sits cross-legged, not touching K or reaching for him, but there in case he loses his balance or needs to be caught.

"We were all facing things from home that week." Meaning they're gone now, and no one is going to come retire K again. And if they tried, Jesus would be there to sneak K away.

"How often do you dream about him?"