Cold war eyed him, something akin to - but not quite - sympathy moving through him.
"Then stop. Find something to do." Cold war looked off in the distance once again, his expression closed. "I do not have that luxury. I am a slave to the choices I have made." He focused back on the horse before him. "Do not make the mistakes I have."
He lowered his head to the tragic figure, and exhaled sharply. "Make your choice. It will dictate the path of your life from this point on."