Thatch felt a stab of something like--guilt? Worry? An emotion he couldn't quite classify so he just let it be. He had hidden away from the world, pretty much. After a while he had given up hope that any nakama would arrive. That he would be alone in this strange, distorted place.

He would have gone off into the wild unknown had Namur not anchored him to Trabia, and then when would he have met Marco? Perhaps never. Though no one would convince him that it was more to Marco's detriment than his, because wherever Marco went, people gathered around him.

"Don't worry, Feathers. I'm here and when I leave it's only because we're going home."

He wasn't entirely sure what would happen to Grell and Espio then. Would they come as well? Could they? Well that would be discovered when the time came. He lifted Marco's wing, inspecting it for any bent or otherwise damaged feathers. Not that there would be any but he enjoyed the process anyway.

"I remember. I was scared to shit. Didn't think I'd ever make it back even before I'd left." He chuckled. "I remember you and Pops watching me go."

Those were the only faces he remembered. The only ones he'd seen at the time as his boat sailed further and further from the Moby Dick. Though that didn't stop a certain glittering blue speck follow him for a few hours afterwards, trailing affection across the sky.