There's a reason he doesn't talk about it. It doesn't help, doesn't soothe the pain away or stop him from sitting up nights thinking about her, thinking about what he should have done, could have done, if he hadn't been a selfish asshole. There's no point thinking about the past when you can't change it. He died with her the day she took her last breath and what he is now-- well, it's a shell. A fucking charming, good looking shell, but just a shell that exists to keep his fucking people as safe as he can.
Not that he's gonna say that bit out loud.
He looks over at Doc when he settles in next time him and breathes out a short sigh, steadying himself. "Nah, besides Lucille, there's no one I could love like that." And he's not talking about the bat, but he hopes Doc won't read between the lines.
"You ever have someone else? Sounds like you had time to move on too... after the freaky snake oil or whatever. What the hell did she give you?"
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Not that he's gonna say that bit out loud.
He looks over at Doc when he settles in next time him and breathes out a short sigh, steadying himself. "Nah, besides Lucille, there's no one I could love like that." And he's not talking about the bat, but he hopes Doc won't read between the lines.
"You ever have someone else? Sounds like you had time to move on too... after the freaky snake oil or whatever. What the hell did she give you?"