Eighteen fifty-two. Raju had pushed the question into the back of his mind and after that carefully never wondered, but now he knows. Almost lucky, then, that they have larger problems just now, and there's too much else inside of Raju for there to be much room for that.

Still, for a moment Raju looks at him, studies the soft and handsome face — handsome still, and handsome in its potential, for what it will be again after it heals. Nearly seventy years. And already, Francis must be... But he can feel Francis' neck underneath his hand, solid, alive. Even the wheezing of his breath is, in moments, more of a comfort than its absence. He can't imagine not listening to this man, no matter how unpleasant the thing he had to say.

"Anyone with sense," Raju says firmly. "What did you say that wasn't a fact? That wasn't obvious? Only to get told you were singling him out." Raju makes a disgusted noise. Mindful of those accusations Raju had voted to punish everyone, not that it matters at all now. "But you're right. If you do decide you want to go back to... protecting the lot of them, somehow, we can figure it out. I'll write down the arguments I remember, we can go over it."

Raju's hands both squeeze and he smiles a little, sadly, but warm. "You did speak well. If a man looking like you do making a speech like that didn't convince enough of them, nothing would have done it."