[ There he is, standing before her. Helpless again. There he is, like every single time when he's dealing with people he loves or even things that aren't people―Lil's words echoing in his ears―that he's not supposed to love but he's just not right enough that he does. It would be so easy to throw his hands up and retract and disappear again, to be the absent figure in two lives rather than one at a time like every single time before then. He doesn't want to. He's not going to let himself. He'll be at war with his own psyche before that happens.

Teeth gritted, he slams the palm of his hand on the piece of her workstation somehow still free of debris. ]

Goddamn it! Just―god!

[ And immediately pulls away, hands clutching at his head as he takes staggered steps back. ]

How am I supposed t'just sit here while the two a' you try t'find a way t'murder each other? Y'think it ain't torture for me? Y'think I can go to sleep at night?