"Four months..." Albel's hands tightened into fists, knuckles white (though mainly from the cold). Then he released. Fayt was right, everything made just about as much sense as everything else -- which was that nothing made sense. If he thought of it that way, that everything was equally nonsensical, then it was almost easier to handle than still trying (and failing) to grasp one last thing.

He purposely continued to ignore the mention of Nel. Because that relationship, or whatever it was, was complicated to say the least.

In the end, he simply nodded and tried his damnedest to stop shivering. Like he could control it if he just concentrated hard enough. But he hated the cold, hated it, and he'd already admitted as much to Fayt before back in Airyglyph. So it wasn't like it was a big secret. "Alright. Lead the way."