With his ears still tucked against his skull the peppered male swung his head towards the ground, simply awaiting for whatever answer that might come from his friend's mouth. He would not have been surprised if he had in fact missed the male's markings and had stumbled into his turf -- with the tangled thoughts that filled his mind and his broken compass ( one of the results from having turned into a hermit) he would not have expected less.
However, Dante was quick to clear the air and take the role of intruder in the process. While Galileo had many times rejoiced in his solitude, today was not the case. In fact, despite his tired looks and gruff voice it was exactly company what he had been after. "Not at all, friend" he barked, curving his lips into a small smile before raising his head again.
Then, like a tape record the dreaded question that seemed to be hovering over him came to play. He understood that the recurring question he had gotten to loathe so much was made with the purest of intentions, by Bazi and Dante both, but he could not get to pin point why it was that they asked it despite being able to read the answer across his tired eyes.
Perhaps they, as well as himself, hoped that the betraying darkness in his eyes was fake, and that maybe by asking directly they'd be able to find that he indeed was fine.
But there was only so much words could hide.
"As much as I can be -- I am not well, but I cannot get myself to be better" he admitted hoarsely, casting his eyes to the snow below his feet.
