[ It's a compelling point, but it's not quite what Jefferson had been getting at, so he shakes his head, a little frantic in his movement. ]
That's not what I--
[ He can hear the agitated edge in his voice, and he stops himself, taking a breath to calm down and make sure he sounds measured and even. ]
I'm not. Well.
[ As if the ranting last night wasn't an indicator. Or the mysterious scar on his neck. Or the way he can't even seem to function normally unless he's forcing an act.
It isn't something he's admitted to anyone yet, at least not while sober. Usually, if he mentioned his own unhappiness, he attributed it to his accident, or the breakup, or anything else. Not that there's something wrong inside of him. But at least he manages now to finally be honest. Perhaps that's what friendship's about.
no subject
That's not what I--
[ He can hear the agitated edge in his voice, and he stops himself, taking a breath to calm down and make sure he sounds measured and even. ]
I'm not. Well.
[ As if the ranting last night wasn't an indicator. Or the mysterious scar on his neck. Or the way he can't even seem to function normally unless he's forcing an act.
It isn't something he's admitted to anyone yet, at least not while sober. Usually, if he mentioned his own unhappiness, he attributed it to his accident, or the breakup, or anything else. Not that there's something wrong inside of him. But at least he manages now to finally be honest. Perhaps that's what friendship's about.
If he can really call them friends. ]
I'm sick. I shouldn't... be around you.