The pale shade of the prince's face did not wholly match their environment, and even had the bitter cold been entirely to blame for that shaky look to the man (as Graham looked closer at him), there was something pinched in his expression that struck the Huntsman as discordant.

As much as he would have liked to nod his head and accept David's opinion as part of his own philosophy, the news of his impending death seemed to have cut straight through any such planning for the future. Struggling with his guilt over what he had done, both of his own free will and under the Queen's command those thirty plus years, was as pointless in that lens as continuing to hope for a future with Red. The realization had ate at him like acid, but there in the cold and a world beyond the Nexus he felt no more than faint shades of his own emotions. It was soothing and allowed him to look closer at the other man without being distracted overly much by his own turmoil to see that something was wrong.

"Are you going to tell me why you brought me out here?" He asked, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard over the wind. "We both know the answer to what is on my mind, what's on yours?"