That's a lot. On top of everything else. Sometimes the stuff we see, the stuff we do...it never really stops hurting, but you learn to live with it. Get used to it.

So when took it all away, and threw it all back at you-- yeah, that's a lot for one man to take all at once. Probably drive most men crazy. No shit you're having a hard time.

[John doesn't know if he could've coped any better, if at all. There have been moments it seemed easier, faster, cleaner, after something big and bad just happens, to just end it all, then keep on keeping on with his worthless, miserable life.

His hand stays on Poe's shoulder. Squeezes.]

I know you do. You've got every right. I'd kill 'em for you, if I could.

[But he can't. All he can do is sit here and flap his gums, like any of it means anything. Words can't take Poe's pain away. John knows. There isn't a bandage for that kind of hurt. All you can do is wait for the scab to form, and hope you don't rub it raw again in the meantime.]

Sorry. I didn't know that's what you were going through. When that all happened. I was caught up in my own crap.