"I'm glad you didn't. I'd never hear the end of it." He'd care more than that, he's sure, but at the moment it's just not the sort of earnest empathy he can grasp. More than ever, fundamental parts of him feel scorched and barren.

"...I don't think I want to feel nice." That's his own brand of self-indulgence, really, and there's at least a level of wry awareness in his gaze.