"I don't see anyone else leaving coffee on my desk for me." Terry raises his eyebrows at Robbie like a period on the point he's making, struggling not to frown instead, but he'll let him have the joke.

It's just rough. Still every time he sees Robbie, he he has to fight this wrenching guilt in his chest. A guilt that only gets more painful whenever he forces himself to ignore those clear signs that Robbie's not okay. That he's still so far from being okay that Terry can't even conceive of what he's struggling with.

This deep wound in him that Terry helped dig.

He's here for Robbie, he's always here for Robbie, but sometimes he doesn't know if he really can be. Not that Terry thinks he's beyond help, but because he thinks he doesn't have the right to try and be that person. How can the same guy who looked away when Penance was screaming about not knowing who he is-- How can that guy be the same one to try and help Robbie piece together some sense of who he is now? How does he deserve to try and help Robbie move past what he did?

But. For whatever reason, he's trusted. And as much as he thinks that faith may be misplaced, he'll never do anything to betray that. Not again. And right now that takes the form of powering through this morning like they're not both dancing around the obvious.

"And," Terry continues on, putting down his mug so he can take the bowl of cereal, "no one else is sharing their secret cereal stash with me."