Laertes lays his hands over his knees and curls his fingers to fit. Before Wanderers Gather, he would have said that he didn't know what Magnus meant by burnt out--but now he knows it all too well, that feeling of being a candle at the end of its wick. The way even things that brought him joy and purpose became dull and grinding, by the end. He imagines what it would be like to feel that about Sagramore, and he really understands for the first time what Sagramore fears about people who care for him.

His love for Sagramore is infinite and ever-replenishing. His ability to care for Sagramore is not.

"I understand," says Laertes slowly. "How ... how might I keep my candle burning, and yet not burn it out?"