"What we enjoy never seems to last long enough, does it?" His gaze is pinned to the stars overhead. While the comment applies to this situation, he thinks of his own happy memories that seemed to end all too quickly.

"The conjuring only lasts for 30 minutes before wearing off. Perhaps a little longer, with effort, but I am weary from today's work." It is a fraction of what he is normally capable of. The illusion of his home that he'd conjured would last hundreds of years - more if he rejuvenated the aether - and that illusion was much more elaborate than a snippet of memory.

"...He was a friend of yours?"