You know Sam and Dean Winchester? That's their thing.
[Not his. He's too tired to chase his thoughts around in circles about these things, or get caught up in the pain characterizing just about everything to do with the Winchesters. He could talk about it for hours and probably not get any where close to the bottom of his list of grievances, the same with trying to find words to describe Hell. Just grin and bear it, right? That's what a person's supposed to do when faced with crap they don't understand and can't fully comprehend. Just grin and bear it. It's a policy he seems to have picked up from his dad's side of the family somewhere along the way, and it's too much a part of him now to try and shake off.
As a result, the apology that comes out of the other man's mouth is enough to jar him a little. This... all of this, it'd started from nothing, just an oddball conversation under oddball circumstances, but it's more than anyone who'd been involved in his old life has ever said to him. His lips twitch, pressed as they are in a line. Adam looks for a minute like he's heard a string of gibberish, or something he hadn't expected to hear.
He remembers Dean tooting his own horn, reminding Adam he'd tried to save him while pointing out Adam had shot himself in his own foot. The apologies for failing had only come after... after seeing Adam strung tighter than a bow, about to snap from the tension.
Hell is rough, and it's too much to pretend it hadn't happened, or keep it buried deep and not talk about it, but compassion hurts more than he'd thought it would. Even just basic human sympathy hits like a punch to the gut when given to him like this.
The line of his lips goes white.]
No one cares.
[The words always seem to find a way of tumbling out of him one way or another. It's not that the pain's gotten any better since he's come here, it's that he's gotten better at hiding it from plain sight.]
When you win big, no one cares about the collateral damage. That doesn't change just because we're here, that's just how it is. But that's... more than some people would say. So thanks. For not signing me up for the mental ward, anyway.
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You know Sam and Dean Winchester? That's their thing.
[Not his. He's too tired to chase his thoughts around in circles about these things, or get caught up in the pain characterizing just about everything to do with the Winchesters. He could talk about it for hours and probably not get any where close to the bottom of his list of grievances, the same with trying to find words to describe Hell. Just grin and bear it, right? That's what a person's supposed to do when faced with crap they don't understand and can't fully comprehend. Just grin and bear it. It's a policy he seems to have picked up from his dad's side of the family somewhere along the way, and it's too much a part of him now to try and shake off.
As a result, the apology that comes out of the other man's mouth is enough to jar him a little. This... all of this, it'd started from nothing, just an oddball conversation under oddball circumstances, but it's more than anyone who'd been involved in his old life has ever said to him. His lips twitch, pressed as they are in a line. Adam looks for a minute like he's heard a string of gibberish, or something he hadn't expected to hear.
He remembers Dean tooting his own horn, reminding Adam he'd tried to save him while pointing out Adam had shot himself in his own foot. The apologies for failing had only come after... after seeing Adam strung tighter than a bow, about to snap from the tension.
Hell is rough, and it's too much to pretend it hadn't happened, or keep it buried deep and not talk about it, but compassion hurts more than he'd thought it would. Even just basic human sympathy hits like a punch to the gut when given to him like this.
The line of his lips goes white.]
No one cares.
[The words always seem to find a way of tumbling out of him one way or another. It's not that the pain's gotten any better since he's come here, it's that he's gotten better at hiding it from plain sight.]
When you win big, no one cares about the collateral damage. That doesn't change just because we're here, that's just how it is. But that's... more than some people would say. So thanks. For not signing me up for the mental ward, anyway.