Gray's laughter is more than worth any possible damage Estelle might do to his clothing--John's not the only reason he's been keeping a sewing kit around, after all. And watching Gray petting her adds to the warmth running through him, definitely not overly amplified by the sun at this point.

It even makes it easier to listen to Gray's memory--one he can't be completely sure he does remember anymore. Little bits have been coming back, slowly and in fragments often devoid of context, since the breakdowns John's helped him through. It's been easier to let them come, not lose himself in them so much, but there's still so much missing because he let it slip away that he can't always be sure what's memory and what's just jumbled up dream-like compilations.

He could lie, but it feels wrong to do that to Gray, especially about home--unless he starts digging for what happened after.

"Sorta…it's vague, lotta stuff still is," he says, softly, before turning to Gray with a faint smile. "I remember doing a lot of that kind of stuff for you. Think you were the first person I really wanted to make happy and show off for, even more than Mom and Dad." It's a bit easier to mention them right now, in the sunlight with Gray and Estelle, than it had been with John. It still hurts, a bit, but not enough to start pulling him under the waves.