"We all do. We need for things not to go crazy every other day." He tosses the ball lightly, underhand, every time the dog comes back to him, knowing he's not throwing it as far as Theta normally does. He's hiding it but his composure is still only sort of being kept thinly and he hiccups a little trying to hold things together. "I keep thinking...if he'd been killed in the riots..." What a horrible thought, but it was a thought he'd been mulling. He's frowning deeply, looking like the face of melancholy. Could Theta really be suffering a fate worse than death, right now? Suffering without North's knowledge and without his ability to do anything about it? He feels his face trying to crumple again and he sets his mouth in a hard line, accepting the ball one more time from the dog and clenching his hands around it.