[The rebuttal that he might have had catches at Ion's shout. Sandalphon's expression sags and his body slumps in tandem with it. He reaches out to gently grasp Ion by the shoulders, ignoring the pain that shoots through his injured palm as he hangs his head.

The sad revelation dials his volume down to a faint whisper.]

All your life, you've played the part of a pawn. Of course you can't see it in yourself. There's so much in you . . . but I don't know how to make you see it.

[Because he, a discarded tool, has no reasonable basis with which to present his argument. Ion is lost, yet he can do nothing to help.]