[He cries like it's hurting him, hard gasps and broken, choked noises, his chest heaving with each one. When her arm tightens around his waist he turns toward her, wrapping both of his arms around her and physically shaking as he tries to do the exact opposite of what she's encouraging him to do.

Eventually he calms down enough, panting for breath, that he can pull back and push his glasses up, scrubbing his bloody hand over his face. His voice is still ragged and uneven, though.]

I can't let anything happen to Mabel. I can't, but Dipper's already...

[Remember what Randall said would happen to people who were already dead?]

I can't just do nothing.

[And then, in the closest thing his hoarse voice can get to a whisper,]

...He was just a little older than the kids...