Elfroot. From his perspective, he's been gone for a few months, tops. It shouldn't be that difficult to slide back into this reality, to take the existence of fantasy weed in stride. But he'd never really gotten over all of it, honestly, even after he'd given up and started calling the place home.

What's meant to be an amused huff turns into a small cough, quickly muffled as he passes the cigarette back over.

"Has he been gone long?"

He doesn't sound surprised, or upset. They hadn't been close. Even if they had been, he'd compartmentalize: Richard's gone home, just as Fitz had. There's nothing to mourn.