I know. [His voice is very quiet, and, despite the frustration and anger that runs like razor wire behind it, gentle. Genuine. Serious.] I know, it's...

I don't know how you keep people safe, either.

[He scrubs a hand over his eyes. This is, it turns out, a bad idea in his current state, as his eyeballs have started to shrivel in their sockets, and the skin around them is like wet tissue paper. Way too easy to tear. He has to look away for a moment, to push his eye back into place, and... honestly, it's kind of a relief. It's hard to look at the kid, right now.]

I don't have any answers. And I'm sorry, Giorno, I really am. But this is a clinic. People need to be safe if they come here.

I need to know they'll be safe if they come here.