When he can't bear it anymore, he tells Linda, and of course she knows what it is.
But he isn't lonely. How can he be when, his club, his penthouse is always buzzing with people? When every night he has a different companion in his bed, sometimes even more than one? When he has people asking for favors left and right?
But apparently being alone is not the same as being lonely, and he would call bullshit, if the ache would just go away.
It doesn't, and the moment he sees Maze, he almost flinches because it hurts. She is the one who betrayed him, why is he the one suffering?
But a priest walks into a bar, and ask the devil a favor. It's probably the beginning of a great joke, but he isn't in a mood to laugh.
So he dismisses the man, bracing himself up to prove him wrong, to show the whole world all the way Father failed them, how rotten his followers are. He feels the usual burning anger sparking to life in him, and for a second it's so good, so familiar that he forgets the pain.
A dead body and a shooting later, he is proven wrong. Apparently the father is a decent man.
He is also a bloody good piano player, but he rather goes back to hell than admit that.
They start easy, competitive even but they are in sync, and somehow they end up improvising a piece for four hand, and now it's fun. He doesn't remember having so much fun in years, maybe decades. There is something warm in his chest, that slowly eats the pain away with every accord played, that only intensifies when the Detective interrupts them.
Maybe that's what Linda meant with needing friends, not just lovers.
His therapist is so clever; he did a great job by choosing her.