[Beckett's answering shift in tone brings more warmth to his own. It's...undeniably wonderful, to have a friend he can talk about these things with. Someone else who gained immortality from a mortal life. Who has lived a comparable amount of time, in a largely mortal-populated plane.

He'd like to go on, about how their mortal lives are what shaped their immortal selves, so long ago. Putting these thoughts into words helps him hold on to his reason, too. But he can't linger on this thought and talk over Beckett. He'd be a terrible friend if he didn't follow through here. If he didn't give Beckett the chance to speak for himself and kept tossing assumptions out. Eventually toes would be stepped on, and Heaven forbid he knowingly hurt anyone he cares for. Heaven forbid he damage this bond he's come to treasure more than he thought he would.]

I'd say you never quite lost him. I did little of consequence as a mortal, myself, but it's still where I came from. But...what does it mean to you, to be what you are?