[ and charles, ever attentive to the moods of others (because he had to be so, growing up, every second of every day, until it was too ingrained in him to ever stop even in death) notices the silence, the somber look to him, and grimaces. ]

Sorry, [ he says, running a hand through his curls, ] Not very cheerful conversation, is it?

[ and due to the topic of the dreams, it continues as such; because he is not only attentive to others, but also a detective with three decades of experience being one under his belt, and so he raises one brow at that answer. ]

So it was bloody awful, in other words, got it.

[ there's a quiet sympathy in his eyes as he looks at the other, something that seems almost at odds with his youthful appearance. ] You know, you can talk to me. I know we're not close or anything, but... you're here, yeah? And so am I. And it's not good to bottle stuff up. All that's gonna do is explode spectacularly later.

[ and then, with a soft, earnest smile, ] But it's up to you. We can just talk about nothing, too, right now. The offer won't expire.