Every morning the memories wake him; the Blackjack tearing itself to pieces; Terra's hand slipping from his grasp; the shouts and screams of the other Returners as the world rearranges itself alongside the Warring Triad.

Or maybe it's the pounding headache in the back of his skull, the kind that never fades, and the only remedy is to pour more alcohol down his throat like it can treat the wounds inside his soul - all it does is prolong the hangover further.

Here in Kohlingen, he has a bed and a roof over his head, but his feet are glued to the ground while his heart seeks to soar through the clouds, and it's all Setzer can do to pull the covers over his head and wish he'd crashed with the Blackjack instead.