"Nothing for you to hear," he retorts weakly. "We already sorted our shit, anyway. Said our goodbyes." If only he could touch Clair one more time, he thinks, but he's not going to say it. This York doesn't need to know what they shared; it's none of his business. He slumps against York's side, and as pissed as he'd just been at him moments before, he can't help laying his head over on his shoulder. He knows he smells like some weird cleaner but the other York is just going to have to deal.