No. Just hurting. It makes you... heavier, louder. [ He doesn't understand social cues. He just says it like it is. He has to say the words, the right words. To make the hurt less. Know them without thinking, they just come to him. And a little of himself, to make it brighter. Makes it hurt less. It's what he's supposed to do. ]

The world was unkind to you first, pressing, poor, punches in the halls. "Trailer trash", their words and fists sting. Blood, and bruises. But not... broken. It didn't make you forget how to be kind.

You do good, you help. You lead. You are the shield. [ He's reminded of someone. ] Faith has a shield, she defends. Burns bright. Breathed light into the Inquisition. "Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter."