[One knock, two. Peter bangs against her door in quick taps. He's got some chocolate tucked under one arm, a peace offering that he plans on using to make sure she'll actually talk to him. They hadn't left it at great terms when she was an adult, if she remembered anything from her time as a child he was sure he'd need help to keep the door from being shut in his face.]
Lizzie? Uh, Elizabeth? Look, I know that I- Can we just talk for a second?
[It takes a moment for Elizabeth to open the door-- not because she's deciding whether or not she wants to talk to Peter, but because she can't believe he's actually paying her a visit. Once she's sure she's not hearing things, Elizabeth hurdles awkwardly over the couch to get to the door before he can run off. Which, obviously, he could do easily while Elizabeth limps to the door after stretching her hamstring from the daring couchleap.]
[She opens the door looking a little mussed but curious.] Of course. I think we should. [She looks back into the living area of her quarters. It has all the trappings of a girl who's lost her boyfriend to interdimensional travel: empty snack and ration bags, a bottle of vodka she no doubt intended to drink heavily from but is only missing about three inches from the neck, blankets and pillows on the couch, and a dried corsage on the table.]
Did you want to come in? It's a bit of a mess but...
[He gives a thin smile when she opens the door, grateful at least that she opened the door at all. Begging for forgiveness is probably something he should have tried earlier, but he'd been stubborn and let things stagnate between them. She'd be in her rights to tell him to leave.
Her room gets a quick look from him; it reminds him a lot of Wanda's room. His Wanda from home, that is, and the mess hits him a little melancholic.]
I'm a teenage boy, this doesn't even begin to be a mess to me.
[Peter holds out the chocolates before she's finished talking, expression a little sheepish.]
[At least he's not bothered by the clutter, that's a bit of a comfort. Ivan's disappearance caused a huge problem for the ship, and for her control-- Peter seeing how hurt she still is makes her wonder if he'll start to question how stable she is. If he'll start to pity the girl who's boyfriend left her. It shouldn't affect her this much, should it?]
[She looks at the chocolates and looks back up at Peter.] I think a peace offering suggests that the other party is waging some kind of war. [She tilts her head.] I'm not angry... are you?
[Pity is a far cry from what he's felt around Elizabeth. Worry, yes. Confusion, yes. But he doesn't pity her anymore than he would his own Wanda.]
I'm not, but I kind of thought you would be after everything. [It occurs to him she might not know what he found out during her stint as a child.] You might still be before we're done talking. Just take it anyway. Even if you do get mad at least you'll have something nice waiting for you when I leave.
After we fought over the network? Or... [She does remember. Not every word, not exactly, but the feelings she does.]
Oh God, Peter. If you think I'd be mad about that... [Words don't come immediately, so she shakes her head a little.] I must have cried day in and day out when I was a baby, because no one loved me. You read to me, that was probably my only dream when I was that age and... it never came true until the day I had another chance. And even though we fought, you still did that for me.
That's- Come on, you really think I'd let you just wander around like that? You were a little kid, you could have gotten hurt! [He hadn't been angry at Elizabeth, not really. Even if he had been, Peter wouldn't have taken it out on a child.] I have a little sister. Hell, me and Wanda practically raised her. Reading, playing and all that, it's pretty much what I'm good at. Outside of stealing and being an ass.
But Lizzie. [The switch back to her nickname is unconscious.] The stuff you said then? I pushed you for it. You got to be pissed about that.
[Elizabeth stares at him for a moment, a long moment, as she considers how mad she realistically should be for Peter having a conversation with a four year old her. Finding out things that she didn't just volunteer to people because... Because it was over.]
Why? It's the truth. [She can't meet his eyes when she says it, but there's weight to the statement. Like it weighs on her every day, even in space.] I was too young to know what was happening, I tried to make sense of it as best I could. Scientists were men in white dresses. Poking me-- taking blood samples. That woman, who I 'made mad'? [She flashes a sardonic smile and opens the box of chocolates. She needs to eat.] Lady Comstock. Wife of the man who kidnapped me. She wasn't too excited to be my public-eye mother, insisted that I was the product of an affair her husband had with one of the lead scientists who watched me.
I forgot all of that, of course. I was four. The idea that I once had parents was gone by the time I was six, maybe seven. Which was over thirteen years ago. [Elizabeth picks one of the chocolates out of the box.] I don't talk about it because it was over thirteen years ago, and no one can do anything to change that. So why... talk about it?
Four year old me hadn't quite figured that out yet, so. You got to hear about my toys being stolen and my books I couldn't read on my own. Seems weird, anyone would ask why if they weren't completely heartless. I was a kid. [She looks down at the chocolate in her hand, it's melting.] I could have been hurting and just not crying about it because no one asked.
[The scientist part wasn't hard to figure out on his own. The kidnapping is a little more surprising and it shows in the brief raising of his eyebrows. But he stays quiet while she explains. If she wants to tell him about it now, as an adult, why should he stop her?
Of course what she has to say is nothing good. Peter had more or less expected something terrible from her reactions before, but hearing how self depreciating she was about it was hard to deal with.]
It might make you feel better. Isn't that enough of a reason? I mean, shit. That's heavy stuff to deal with alone. Maybe no one can do anything about it- I mean, unless we get someone around here with time travel powers. But at least we can empathize or whatever. Take a little of the load off of you.
[The talk about her childhood makes him feel guilty all over again.]
I'm sorry. For making you as a kid talk about it. You were a good kid, Lizzie. You didn't deserve any of that. You should have had someone reading to you all the time and your real parents. I'm sorry you went through all that shit.
[Elizabeth has, of course, thought that talking about it might make her feel better-- but at what cost? She didn't want anyone to take on her pain if she could help it, because she didn't think it could get any lighter. Clearly, after telling Ivan and Miles almost everything, it had gotten lighter because now she's feeling the weight again. Heavier, now that her 'gift' is back.]
[Peter's apologies hit Elizabeth quite hard, and she stands there with the melting chocolate and the box tearing up.]
He was a horrible man, and I'm not sorry he's dead! He destroyed my life, and nearly destroyed my father's, and I'm going to be playing catch-up forever just trying to have friends and see things with them, find some meaning for myself past what that man did to me!
[She has to catch her breath after that, and she realizes that her tears have spilled over and tries to wipe them away.]
I didn't mean for this to come out like that. I just-- run away with myself.
[They've got plenty of alcohol from Peter's haul last month, fancy bottles of champagne to pass back and forth, and Peter's taken a few things from the mess hall to even it out. They've got the room to themselves, Tron rarely bothered sticking around anyway and for once Peter was grateful. They've got Stevie Nicks crooning about lost love and a box full of albums that Peter's put by Jean's feet. It's everything anyone could want for the world's best pity party.]
It just sucks, you know? [Peter hands the bottle back to Jean, grimacing at the taste. It's the first time he's spoken since getting her inside and telling her to pick out something to play. He thinks he should be slurring already, probably would be if it weren't for his quick metabolism. He'd started drinking long before he'd told her to come over.] People, this place, it just sucks.
[ Jean doesn't want to drink. She's never wanted to, since she got her powers. Always afraid she would lose more control. But after finally being reunited with Charles and seeing how he really didn't know her... On top of the general hopelessness that was sinking in the longer she was away from home, Jean was willing and wanting to drink herself into feeling nothing for a while.
She was surprised by Peter inviting her over and would've been more worried to see him in the state he was if she didn't feel the same inside.
The music was great. Honestly the only thing to help her feel a little better as she took turns taking sips from a bottle with Peter. Sitting on the bed next to him, she takes another swig before wrinkling her nose as she swallows it down. ]
I hate it. I hate being here and I hate that it feels like everything I did doesn't matter because I may not even get back.
[ She takes another swallow before resting the bottle back on her thigh. ]
[Some part of him he thinks should feel bad for dragging Jean into his misery. For bringing her over and all but shoving a bottle in her hands. A better friend probably would have found a more productive way to discuss problems than alcohol and whining.
A bigger part of him is simply impressed she's keeping up.]
I wish everything I did back there didn't matter.
[If only he could erase helping Erik. Maybe keep the scare with the Sentinels from happening. It would have saved him a lot of heart ache here.
But he doesn't want to take away from her desire to go back. He puts a hand on her knee a half second, trying to be comforting.]
I used to like this place. Even with all the shit I caused, this place was almost like home. But now? [He sighs.] If Wanda hadn't just lost Pietro, I'd-
[Leave, maybe. He knows deep down he could never do that to his sister, to either of them. But in the moment, being on the ship made the hurt magnified.]
[ She doesn't mean to pick up that unspoken word. That "leave" but she does and her expression shows it. Damn alcohol has a way of weakening many walls, including the ones where she tries to keep her emotions to herself. ]
... you'd leave?
And I'd be alone.
[ With a Charles that doesn't know her, with no other mutants. She's tried her best not to make Peter feel bad for not knowing her but admitting he'd leave if Wanda wasn't alone... It hurts. She can't help it.
She looks away from him, nodding and blinking back tears that seemed to come out of nowhere. ]
[For a moment he doesn't say anything. She's psychic, it's not like he could deny what she'd said. It's not like he wants to. Right now he wants to be anywhere else. Away from everything that reminds him of Sans, to chase right after the man and beg for him to come back. He's too hurt to deny anything for the sake of her feelings.]
You wouldn't be. You're likable, powerful.
[He looks away from her because he knows he's struck a blow and he's never been good with seeing someone cry. He reaches and puts a hand at her knee. It's barely a comfort, when he's the cause of the tears.]
People are going to want you here. The good ones aren't going to want to leave you.
[ Jean scoffs openly, still blinking back tears and shaking her head. ]
Yeah, right. Because that's exactly why I was so popular at school.
[ The sarcasm is thick as she remembers the looks she would get, the fear she would feel. She tried to isolate herself for their sake, yes. But it still didn't stop the loneliness or pain from picking up on all of that.
Peter's hand on her knee barely registers. She takes another swig from the bottle before she's sliding down onto the floor and off the edge of the bed. ]
That's such a load of crap, Peter. You know? I mean, you're good and you're wanting to leave.
Well maybe the people at your school were shits, Jean. The people here aren't.
[From Peter's perspective, he'd had no one outside of his mother and sisters back home. Here he had more than just Wanda's support. The ship had given him more than he'd ever thought he'd have living in his mother's basement.
He watches her move away, expression growing more bitter by the second.]
You don't know half of what I've done here Jean. There only person who knows all of it and still thinks I'm something good just took off. Me wanting to leave has nothing to do with getting away from you, it has everything to do with that.
[ She makes a face from where she is on the floor, ]
There are plenty of assholes here and you know it.
[ She's been pretty good at avoiding them tho. But he says that last bit and she turns enough to look up at him, eyes shining from unshed tears, ]
And the only person that believed in me back home, the only one who never looked at me like I was some freak, now looks at me like I'm a stranger. He doesn't know me. He doesn't even have his powers.
[ Looking away and wiping angrily at her cheeks as stupid water gets on them. Dammit. ]
He's like a completely different person. It's such bullshit!
[ And she's taking another swig from the bottle because fuck feelings. She doesn't want them. ]
[It's been only weeks since Peter was drugged into loosing time but right now he feels more out of it than he ever has. He feels like he's stumbling through the hallways, legs unsteady and chest too tight. The world has always felt too slow to him but usually he can push the pace to the back of his mind. Today it's all too present, too much a snail's crawl to process.
A jacket. That's what he'd been left with. A jacket, a letter, and a lump sticking to the back of his throat. Some part of him; the childish, angry part wants to pretend he doesn't care. To throw it all in the back of his dresser and viciously ignore that there had ever been a man named Sans at all. Some other part just wanted to cry.
Another part, the smaller, fragile piece is just grateful he'd gotten proof it had ever been real.
He stumbles into a room, in such a mental fog he barely registers where he is. He can't miss her though. Peter stops, staring at her with his breath caught in his chest.
[First: J doesn't cry. It's not something she's necessary proud of but the fact is that there only is few things that manage to pass through all the walls and barriers she's built around her heart. And she'll fight anyone to the death and claim that those are more for convenience than for protection (she didn't need it). It'd be no use if she were to cry about every little sad thing like a distasteful little child. She doesn't have time for something like that.
Second: J doesn't do goodbyes. Never. They're just another inconveniences, total bore and useless. In her life she's made sure to be prepared to back her things and just leave were the situation ever dire enough. Family. Orphanage. Carensberg. New York. There's already mountains of ashes from all the bridges she's burned in her past, making sure to sever each bond so that no one would ever come after her. Saying a goodbye would only make things unnecessarily complicated. Really.
And yet here she is. Crouching on the floor behind a bar counter and weeping.
She had caught the small man in her room early in the morning. No doubt he was hoping that the darkness and her sleep would be enough cover for him to leave his letter all in secret. No surprise there. No goodbyes. She and Sans had been more alike than either of them ever dared to admit. And then he was nowhere to be found. After that J's first reaction, naturally, was to hurry to the bar and start packing. With Sans disappearance the Captains would take all the rooms away from him and then find out about their little business. She couldn't have that. For some reason unknown to her she didn't even think of calling Shepard or Tony to help her with the task but she's sure glad about it.
It all started with one tear. Her eyes got itchy and burning but as she tried to relief the discomfort with rubbing them another tear fell and after that she couldn't stop rest from coming. She knelt on the floor, covered her eyes and cried silently. She hated Sans. She hated herself. For all the mistakes she had done as she had failed to see the obvious before it had been pointed out to her. That there had been a net that would catch her every time she were to fall. No judgement or hate just protection. And now that net is gone.
She doesn't see Peter, how could she? She probably wouldn't even realize his presence if he were to stand there still for hours watching her.]
[Peter's seen people cry before, but watching someone he cares about break down has never gotten any easy. He's watched his mother cry after every bad breakup, watched her drown sorrows in bottle after bottle until she's all red eyed and runny mascara. Peter's watched his Wanda bawl about teenage boys and math tests, about their mother's spending and his frequent police visits. He's sat in his little sister's room late at night, rubbing her back while she sobbed about nightmares, when she asked questions Peter didn't have answers to.
He knows at the time those moments all hurt beyond what he had words for, each feeling so big that nothing would top it. Right now feels the same, watching J quietly weep.
Peter knows what she's crying for, doesn't have to ask to feel in is bones this is about Sans. As much as anyone else on board, he knows what that hurt feels like.It's so much worse that she's not making a sound, just a heavy stream of tears and shaking shoulders. Something like this deserves screaming, he thinks, deserves explosive noise. But she can't have that because of him and it's all that keeps him from going to her.
He doesn't think their relationship now allows for him to comfort her, even as Peter finds himself surprised that he wants to push everything aside to do just that. Instead he just breathes, watches long enough for the image to be seared in his brain as some personal penitence. Quietly, he backs out of the room and eyes burning.
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Elizabeth
Lizzie? Uh, Elizabeth? Look, I know that I- Can we just talk for a second?
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[She opens the door looking a little mussed but curious.] Of course. I think we should. [She looks back into the living area of her quarters. It has all the trappings of a girl who's lost her boyfriend to interdimensional travel: empty snack and ration bags, a bottle of vodka she no doubt intended to drink heavily from but is only missing about three inches from the neck, blankets and pillows on the couch, and a dried corsage on the table.]
Did you want to come in? It's a bit of a mess but...
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Her room gets a quick look from him; it reminds him a lot of Wanda's room. His Wanda from home, that is, and the mess hits him a little melancholic.]
I'm a teenage boy, this doesn't even begin to be a mess to me.
[Peter holds out the chocolates before she's finished talking, expression a little sheepish.]
I figured I should bring a little peace offering.
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[She looks at the chocolates and looks back up at Peter.] I think a peace offering suggests that the other party is waging some kind of war. [She tilts her head.] I'm not angry... are you?
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I'm not, but I kind of thought you would be after everything. [It occurs to him she might not know what he found out during her stint as a child.] You might still be before we're done talking. Just take it anyway. Even if you do get mad at least you'll have something nice waiting for you when I leave.
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Oh God, Peter. If you think I'd be mad about that... [Words don't come immediately, so she shakes her head a little.] I must have cried day in and day out when I was a baby, because no one loved me. You read to me, that was probably my only dream when I was that age and... it never came true until the day I had another chance. And even though we fought, you still did that for me.
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[He frowns when she doesn't respond as expected.]
That's- Come on, you really think I'd let you just wander around like that? You were a little kid, you could have gotten hurt! [He hadn't been angry at Elizabeth, not really. Even if he had been, Peter wouldn't have taken it out on a child.] I have a little sister. Hell, me and Wanda practically raised her. Reading, playing and all that, it's pretty much what I'm good at. Outside of stealing and being an ass.
But Lizzie. [The switch back to her nickname is unconscious.] The stuff you said then? I pushed you for it. You got to be pissed about that.
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Why? It's the truth. [She can't meet his eyes when she says it, but there's weight to the statement. Like it weighs on her every day, even in space.] I was too young to know what was happening, I tried to make sense of it as best I could. Scientists were men in white dresses. Poking me-- taking blood samples. That woman, who I 'made mad'? [She flashes a sardonic smile and opens the box of chocolates. She needs to eat.] Lady Comstock. Wife of the man who kidnapped me. She wasn't too excited to be my public-eye mother, insisted that I was the product of an affair her husband had with one of the lead scientists who watched me.
I forgot all of that, of course. I was four. The idea that I once had parents was gone by the time I was six, maybe seven. Which was over thirteen years ago. [Elizabeth picks one of the chocolates out of the box.] I don't talk about it because it was over thirteen years ago, and no one can do anything to change that. So why... talk about it?
Four year old me hadn't quite figured that out yet, so. You got to hear about my toys being stolen and my books I couldn't read on my own. Seems weird, anyone would ask why if they weren't completely heartless. I was a kid. [She looks down at the chocolate in her hand, it's melting.] I could have been hurting and just not crying about it because no one asked.
no subject
Of course what she has to say is nothing good. Peter had more or less expected something terrible from her reactions before, but hearing how self depreciating she was about it was hard to deal with.]
It might make you feel better. Isn't that enough of a reason? I mean, shit. That's heavy stuff to deal with alone. Maybe no one can do anything about it- I mean, unless we get someone around here with time travel powers. But at least we can empathize or whatever. Take a little of the load off of you.
[The talk about her childhood makes him feel guilty all over again.]
I'm sorry. For making you as a kid talk about it. You were a good kid, Lizzie. You didn't deserve any of that. You should have had someone reading to you all the time and your real parents. I'm sorry you went through all that shit.
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[Peter's apologies hit Elizabeth quite hard, and she stands there with the melting chocolate and the box tearing up.]
He was a horrible man, and I'm not sorry he's dead! He destroyed my life, and nearly destroyed my father's, and I'm going to be playing catch-up forever just trying to have friends and see things with them, find some meaning for myself past what that man did to me!
[She has to catch her breath after that, and she realizes that her tears have spilled over and tries to wipe them away.]
I didn't mean for this to come out like that. I just-- run away with myself.
Jean
It just sucks, you know? [Peter hands the bottle back to Jean, grimacing at the taste. It's the first time he's spoken since getting her inside and telling her to pick out something to play. He thinks he should be slurring already, probably would be if it weren't for his quick metabolism. He'd started drinking long before he'd told her to come over.] People, this place, it just sucks.
no subject
She was surprised by Peter inviting her over and would've been more worried to see him in the state he was if she didn't feel the same inside.
The music was great. Honestly the only thing to help her feel a little better as she took turns taking sips from a bottle with Peter. Sitting on the bed next to him, she takes another swig before wrinkling her nose as she swallows it down. ]
I hate it. I hate being here and I hate that it feels like everything I did doesn't matter because I may not even get back.
[ She takes another swallow before resting the bottle back on her thigh. ]
I hate feeling so... lost.
no subject
A bigger part of him is simply impressed she's keeping up.]
I wish everything I did back there didn't matter.
[If only he could erase helping Erik. Maybe keep the scare with the Sentinels from happening. It would have saved him a lot of heart ache here.
But he doesn't want to take away from her desire to go back. He puts a hand on her knee a half second, trying to be comforting.]
I used to like this place. Even with all the shit I caused, this place was almost like home. But now? [He sighs.] If Wanda hadn't just lost Pietro, I'd-
[Leave, maybe. He knows deep down he could never do that to his sister, to either of them. But in the moment, being on the ship made the hurt magnified.]
no subject
... you'd leave?
And I'd be alone.
[ With a Charles that doesn't know her, with no other mutants. She's tried her best not to make Peter feel bad for not knowing her but admitting he'd leave if Wanda wasn't alone... It hurts. She can't help it.
She looks away from him, nodding and blinking back tears that seemed to come out of nowhere. ]
no subject
You wouldn't be. You're likable, powerful.
[He looks away from her because he knows he's struck a blow and he's never been good with seeing someone cry. He reaches and puts a hand at her knee. It's barely a comfort, when he's the cause of the tears.]
People are going to want you here. The good ones aren't going to want to leave you.
no subject
Yeah, right. Because that's exactly why I was so popular at school.
[ The sarcasm is thick as she remembers the looks she would get, the fear she would feel. She tried to isolate herself for their sake, yes. But it still didn't stop the loneliness or pain from picking up on all of that.
Peter's hand on her knee barely registers. She takes another swig from the bottle before she's sliding down onto the floor and off the edge of the bed. ]
That's such a load of crap, Peter. You know? I mean, you're good and you're wanting to leave.
no subject
[From Peter's perspective, he'd had no one outside of his mother and sisters back home. Here he had more than just Wanda's support. The ship had given him more than he'd ever thought he'd have living in his mother's basement.
He watches her move away, expression growing more bitter by the second.]
You don't know half of what I've done here Jean. There only person who knows all of it and still thinks I'm something good just took off. Me wanting to leave has nothing to do with getting away from you, it has everything to do with that.
no subject
There are plenty of assholes here and you know it.
[ She's been pretty good at avoiding them tho. But he says that last bit and she turns enough to look up at him, eyes shining from unshed tears, ]
And the only person that believed in me back home, the only one who never looked at me like I was some freak, now looks at me like I'm a stranger. He doesn't know me. He doesn't even have his powers.
[ Looking away and wiping angrily at her cheeks as stupid water gets on them. Dammit. ]
He's like a completely different person. It's such bullshit!
[ And she's taking another swig from the bottle because fuck feelings. She doesn't want them. ]
J
A jacket. That's what he'd been left with. A jacket, a letter, and a lump sticking to the back of his throat. Some part of him; the childish, angry part wants to pretend he doesn't care. To throw it all in the back of his dresser and viciously ignore that there had ever been a man named Sans at all. Some other part just wanted to cry.
Another part, the smaller, fragile piece is just grateful he'd gotten proof it had ever been real.
He stumbles into a room, in such a mental fog he barely registers where he is. He can't miss her though. Peter stops, staring at her with his breath caught in his chest.
J.]
no subject
Second: J doesn't do goodbyes. Never. They're just another inconveniences, total bore and useless. In her life she's made sure to be prepared to back her things and just leave were the situation ever dire enough. Family. Orphanage. Carensberg. New York. There's already mountains of ashes from all the bridges she's burned in her past, making sure to sever each bond so that no one would ever come after her. Saying a goodbye would only make things unnecessarily complicated. Really.
And yet here she is. Crouching on the floor behind a bar counter and weeping.
She had caught the small man in her room early in the morning. No doubt he was hoping that the darkness and her sleep would be enough cover for him to leave his letter all in secret. No surprise there. No goodbyes. She and Sans had been more alike than either of them ever dared to admit. And then he was nowhere to be found. After that J's first reaction, naturally, was to hurry to the bar and start packing. With Sans disappearance the Captains would take all the rooms away from him and then find out about their little business. She couldn't have that. For some reason unknown to her she didn't even think of calling Shepard or Tony to help her with the task but she's sure glad about it.
It all started with one tear. Her eyes got itchy and burning but as she tried to relief the discomfort with rubbing them another tear fell and after that she couldn't stop rest from coming. She knelt on the floor, covered her eyes and cried silently. She hated Sans. She hated herself. For all the mistakes she had done as she had failed to see the obvious before it had been pointed out to her. That there had been a net that would catch her every time she were to fall. No judgement or hate just protection. And now that net is gone.
She doesn't see Peter, how could she? She probably wouldn't even realize his presence if he were to stand there still for hours watching her.]
no subject
He knows at the time those moments all hurt beyond what he had words for, each feeling so big that nothing would top it. Right now feels the same, watching J quietly weep.
Peter knows what she's crying for, doesn't have to ask to feel in is bones this is about Sans. As much as anyone else on board, he knows what that hurt feels like.It's so much worse that she's not making a sound, just a heavy stream of tears and shaking shoulders. Something like this deserves screaming, he thinks, deserves explosive noise. But she can't have that because of him and it's all that keeps him from going to her.
He doesn't think their relationship now allows for him to comfort her, even as Peter finds himself surprised that he wants to push everything aside to do just that. Instead he just breathes, watches long enough for the image to be seared in his brain as some personal penitence. Quietly, he backs out of the room and eyes burning.
He doesn't deserve the chance to cry with her.]