"I couldn't." Jim pulls his cup towards him, holding it between his hands. It's warm in the house, warm near bordering on hot, but the energy bills had been worth it to keep Spock comfortable. Now as the hot porcelain stings at Jim's hands, he wonders if he should turn it down. The thought makes his throat ache and his eyes hot, and he carefully schools his mind towards blankness.

"If he's gone, you're all I've got."