( he surprises himself with a laugh. a little chuff of noise that's almost more crow than human, perhaps in presentation more than sound. )

No, I meant it's fine you're prodding. Six years of therapy has actually managed to convince me I'm pretty fucked up about it.

( there's a million words for what he feels. survivor's guilt is probably the foremost of them. his tone's a bit flippant, but that's just one more way he deals. easier to talk about it like it happened to something else. easier to pretend that infection isn't still below the surface waiting for the right pressure of a sharp knife to lance it out into the open air. )

But trust me, Flora, you wouldn't see that side of me if I didn't know it was. ( his mouth twists into a grimace. the word-choice that follows is deliberate: ) safe.

( for her, first of all. he couldn't control being angry, but he can control the anger. but. safe for him too. to show it. )