[ Bastien's head dips to one side before it nods, sort of. An ambiguous sort of swaying gesture that means yes, with caveats and reservations. ]

I think. I found a man with my brother's name. He looked like—

[ Like a plausible adult interpretation of a face Bastien hadn't seen since that face was twelve years old, without painting or photographs to keep the memory fresh. ]

I don't know. A lot of people there look that way. But he was the right age, right name.