The question slips under his ribs like a knife and lodges there, sharp and uncomfortable without quite being pain. His gaze wavers for just a moment before it drops, and the tips of his ears dip ever so slightly downwards (something he tries to keep from happening in mixed company and is much more difficult with these ridiculous animal ears he's currently sporting).

"You could say that," he replies, his voice deliberately measured to keep the swell of emotion out of it.

"I've had people I was close to, but... I don't have any of them now." Red Wine sighs carefully then rubs the back of his neck. "And as you might imagine... when you're a couple of centuries old, making friends isn't always easy."