He's kept, just slightly, from snapping. She's trying to be honest, and he loves that brash honesty with which she assaults the world. He knows he's not nearly so brave.

But the anger and the hurt stay in place.

"Yeah," he murmurs out of the side of his mouth, "it's shit."

It's not like people look at him and see a person, not a thing, an obstacle or a tool.