[ Two visions of her hated husband. Two. This one is muted, but it makes him all the more ghostlike. Inhuman. Monstrous.

The air in the room is very cold indeed, now, save for the little bubble of warmth he reserves for Martin. Shh, it's all right. He's never been able to protect himself from his mother until now; perhaps this time he'll manage something. ]

I'm your son. A - a ghost from a future where you're dead.

[ He cradles Martin's head protectively. ]

Rather think I prefer it now. I don't - I don't understand why we ever tried to make this work.