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Summary
Phil fucking knew Missa wouldn't just suddenly stop blaming himself for not being there, even if the situation had been wholly out of his hands. And it wasn't like Phil could say, 'it wouldn't have made a difference if you'd been there', because that was just a fucking straight up lie, but... He wrinkled his nose, thinking on it a bit, before shrugging.
Reassurances could only go so far, and Phil had always been shit with words anyways.
"I'm glad you're here now, mate." Phil said, with all the sincerity he could muster, and then he smiled, taking a step back. "But bet you're as fucking tired as I am right now. I still got that double bed upstairs."
