"I had to sign off on it." His voice is quiet, with the weight of what he's saying rather than tiredness, and he's still staring holes in his coffee. It's not something he can get in the details of, every session being little more than placating Robbie enough to keep him calm, signing forms to say he's fit for field duty. He swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head, "every psycho the Hood brought with him, every person who needed help. All of them rolled through my office and right back out to fight."
It feels like a confession, but there's none of that uplifting feeling. That weightlessness that comes with finally getting something off your chest after holding it so tight it threatens to choke you at night.
He just feels guilty all over again.
Saying it is like a reminder of all the shit they made him do, every time signing a form felt like signing over a piece of himself. But there's also this sudden and acute awareness of who he's speaking to - Robbie should be the last person he tells about any of that.
His expression is suddenly worried, and he really can't bring himself to look at Robbie now. Like he's going to look up and see that same expression he sees in the mirror every morning. That reminder he can wear a suit and do nice things, but he can't hide what he's done. What he is.
"I'm sorry, I just-- I mean." He stumbles over his words in his haste to get them out, to move past all that like he never said anything. His shit doesn't matter, it's not what they're talking about. "I can't be the bad guy. Especially not to them."
no subject
It feels like a confession, but there's none of that uplifting feeling. That weightlessness that comes with finally getting something off your chest after holding it so tight it threatens to choke you at night.
He just feels guilty all over again.
Saying it is like a reminder of all the shit they made him do, every time signing a form felt like signing over a piece of himself. But there's also this sudden and acute awareness of who he's speaking to - Robbie should be the last person he tells about any of that.
His expression is suddenly worried, and he really can't bring himself to look at Robbie now. Like he's going to look up and see that same expression he sees in the mirror every morning. That reminder he can wear a suit and do nice things, but he can't hide what he's done. What he is.
"I'm sorry, I just-- I mean." He stumbles over his words in his haste to get them out, to move past all that like he never said anything. His shit doesn't matter, it's not what they're talking about. "I can't be the bad guy. Especially not to them."