The anger receded some, coiling back into that ball of guilt and he ducked his head a little, focusing on his own hand where it touched Esotre's arm.

"Yeah," he said, voice still quiet as he nodded and then swallowed a bit. He glanced up just a little, watching Mike with one eye. "I'm trying," he tried to explain, though he knew it probably sounded half-assed. "I know it probably doesn't look that way, but I am. I know what he means to you, it's just... I'm used to things how they were. I liked them that way. We all fit."

And, of course, the implication there was that Hobbes didn't fit. Which wasn't fair and probably wasn't even true, but that didn't make Chris feel any better.