[As Descole keeps singing in french, and holding her as affectionately but gentle as he can, he remembers his past. He doesn't remember though, when the last time it was that he cried about his stepfather. Oh so bad he wanted to cry in someone's arms without being judged, but he can't help but judge himself in the process. Crying wouldn't help him, because he never let it.]

[Finishing off his song, he began to stroke her hair, and run his fingers through it, like a certain someone he knew would do. He hoped that would help.]

I'm not going anywhere. We're both stuck remember? And besides, to leave myself like this, double, wouldn't help either of us, would it?

And we're still gonna be stuck.

[The sober did kick in, but not all the way, obviously.]