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It was easier to relax, even if unintentionally, when one's company was being generally good-natured and easygoing, and whether he was aware of it or not, Luke's guard was diminishing. He blinked in unspoken surprise at the length of time to which Dith alluded - and that was just time spent in his career, not the duration of his life. It was surprisingly easy to forget how much older the man was; he was probably around the same age as Luke's own father, but he acted completely differently.

Mention of the contest, though brought up in lighthearted enough tones, elicited a painfully obvious regret in the boy, and he deflated slightly at the memories of the hospital, nodding slightly to confirm Dith's words. "I wish I'd been there," he said absently. "I didn't want to go because I thought it'd be a waste of time. Stupid." The theft of Rosie's Vaporeon, Dith's injury - he didn't know if he would have been able to help anyone, but it was frustrating to have never even had the chance.

There was a quiet voice of conscience in his thoughts that had reassured him much the same from time to time in the past. He couldn't have known, and he couldn't call himself stupid for it. Time after time of being left unable to do anything about anything had nearly silenced that part of his conscience, though, and hearing those words from another was terribly similar to hearing nothing at all.

Dith's question drew Luke's attention fully back to him, disarming him with a combination of curiosity and confusion. He was silent for a moment, but he eventually seated himself on the ground, "Sure, if you want..." He hadn't really liked looking up to have a conversation, but it just felt kind of awkward to keep standing while Dith sat.

Luke listened with growing attention, his brow slightly furrowed and his posture slightly stiff. When Dith had finished speaking, he still didn't know what to say. It was similar yet distinctly different; Luke could take solace knowing that he wouldn't be judged or valued by his brother's actions, but for Dith that wasn't a concern. It was the simple fact that his friend was doing something horrible. He fixed his gaze on the sand with an increasingly visible frustration as he failed to imagine some solution. When he raised his eyes again, they were more straightforward and earnest than his usual expressions, "Can you talk to him? Or get in touch with the guy that knows him and somehow reach him that way?" Maybe words didn't work on Asch, but Asch couldn't really be called a friend.

Luke listened with a waning fervor and a growing frown. It sounded like a pretty dismal situation, and he wasn't sure how much hope there was if his friend wouldn't contact him even having the means to do so. That didn't mean it was hopeless, though. Even a small chance was still a chance. "Guy's my best friend," he said, "but a lot of times I avoid him if something happens and I'm not sure how he'll react to it. I end up worrying over the worst case scenario, and it just gets harder and harder to say anything." And around that time Guy usually found him somehow and berated him for acting that way. He rubbed idly at the back of his neck. "I mean, I don't really know anything about your friend, but..." But if there was even a slight chance, wasn't it okay to bet on that? It was better than giving up, at least.

He looked to the phone's screen as it was presented. Huh, he looked kind of familiar... "Ah--" Realization dawned quickly and notably in his features. That one time in the department store with the elevator, that was definitely the same guy. He had the same appearance and expression and everything. "I've seen him before." Really, what were the odds?

Luke's eyes settled pensively on the empty air as he attempted to call up memories of the encounter. It had been a peculiar set of circumstances, he recalled, so hopefully enough details remained in his head to be of some use. "Uh, well it was a long time ago... something like a year. In one of the department stores in Camphoreon - we were in an elevator and it got stuck. He was really... talkative? And helpful, I guess; he explained a lot of stuff I didn't really understand." What was it that he called himself? Introductions had been made passingly, as though they'd both forgotten about it and neither had cared. Ah-- Right, it was something weird, though, and that made it memorable. A single letter, or something pronounced like a single letter. "He said his name was 'D,' I think. Or, nickname. That's how he introduced himself, at least."

It wasn't really helpful information, he understood. A fake name that was nothing more than a single letter and reinforcement of the knowledge that he was somewhere in the region. "Sorry," he murmured. If he had to explain it, he wasn't really sure what he was apologizing for, but as always, it just felt like there was more he could have done or could be doing and simply wasn't. It was frustrating, being so repeatedly unable to help anyone with anything.