Phil doesn't know this kid. He doesn't even know what he's like on a normal day; he's only known him drunk for about ten minutes. But he does know that this kid is sensitive and probably thoughtful, and a war veteran, and Phil knows the weight of his own words about lights in the dark. His thoughts ring with an attentiveness, like instruments tuning while a voice hums something it knows, adjusting and wondering until he can bring all of it into harmony and make it all make sense.

He reaches out carefully to set a hand on Radar's shoulder, and squeezes. "It's hard being alone. Good thing they're not, ehn?"