Kessler turns red and his eyes snap back down to his drink, uncertain how to take in the story coupled with the shift in mood. He makes a few furtive glances to check for additional weapons hidden away - maybe an ankle holster or spring-loaded pistol up the sleeve like in those vintage holo-vids. This all feels so surreal....
After running through a dozen different responses, silently mouthing each, he finally manages a hoarse whisper, "I'm sorry to hear all that. I mean, I can't even begin to imagine..." He sets his drink on the bar, shifting uncomfortably upon noticing the extensive dampness. "It's, um, good that time has healed some wounds and...you've become more discriminating." He eyes the weapon on the table cautiously, uncertain of whether or not it'll end up pointed at his head. He pauses for a bit to measure each word ahead of time, not wanting to sound condescending, "Is there anyone - or any way - to help? I mean...when does your mission end?"
