[Briefly, he catches himself wishing that this were still being done through text. It wouldn't change the confessions any, but it's somehow easier to get his thoughts out of his head when his voice isn't involved. He wishes, sometimes, that he knew why that is. It shouldn't be any different, in theory, but it is.

But Jill...Jill deserves a real answer, he knows. She's easier than most to open up to. And he hasn't forgotten the way she looked in the grocery store, that flash of something distant and melancholy that he'd understood all too well.]

You're okay to talk to.

[He's not looking at her, but this time it looks more like he's hanging his head than avoiding her gaze. He's mumbling, too, but not to the point of being incoherent.]

And I think you get it. That...kind of thing. People who haven't...had their whole world change, because of something that happened, they don't get it. Not really. But I think you do. Because something bad happened to you, and it changed everything for you, too.

...Right?