There are times when Dirk is reminded that he's heartless. That whatever common sense of empathy exists between a human being and another person is missing in him. Watching Rose fall and having no impulse to catch her. Sitting down with Rose and Dave and Roxy and leaving three feet of space between him and the next person, while they pile together. Finding the Hythlodaeus' morbid grief easier to talk to.

"You really think you can do all that?" His voice is always too quiet, but in the pathetic box of a garden, the only competing noise is the near-silent whizz of faerie bug wings.

"... because I don't think you can." Callous? Maybe. But there's no condemnation, just the coldly appraised truth delivered in a low voice. "I think you're counting on how much you need it to work out to make it so. I think you know it, too. Emotional breakdown? Maybe. But you're fucking scared."