Some part of him wishes he could just fall through the floor, keep going infinitely until he had the willpower or courage to talk to the rest of the crew — some strength to face the awful shit that's happened to them. (To you, too, Newton, he can hear them say; does it matter?) He hates what he sees in her face when he finally forces himself to look at her. He hates that he's the reason, even if she refuses to confirm it.]
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Some part of him wishes he could just fall through the floor, keep going infinitely until he had the willpower or courage to talk to the rest of the crew — some strength to face the awful shit that's happened to them. (To you, too, Newton, he can hear them say; does it matter?) He hates what he sees in her face when he finally forces himself to look at her. He hates that he's the reason, even if she refuses to confirm it.]
Then... what do you want for me?
[It's not spoken sarcastically, or maliciously.
It's an earnest question.]