The pair of wide blue eyes moved over the figure, and he couldn't see well; but even if he were blind completely, he would recognize the gruffness, the rumbling timbre. He hadn't heard it in years. The corners of his eyes welled up, as if he weren't already wet all over.

"Yes," he blinked once, squinting and putting his smeared glasses back on. "I am."

He didn't trust what he was seeing or hearing. More... illusions preying on his crippling loneliness and grief, likely.