In that that was something I was trying to avoid saying during this conversation... Yes. I believe this city's had its fill.

[ Awful. In trying to avoid a sore spot, Midnight had danced his way into an inflammation. A lesion. He pushes away from the bar, his attention to the side, but grabs on and pulls himself back in. It's what he gets for trying to be clever. And acidic. And terribly petty, in ways he knows he can be.

(It's strange to think how people can spend full days with him, suspecting nothing. Like it's not even there. Sylvian caught him offguard once. Never again.) ]

In interest of being fully honest... My home life wasn't perfect, but I'd prefer to talk about it when it's actually relevant with what's at hand, and not at the whim of some faceless god's game.

[ Words he could say with his usual confident bravado, especially if he was speaking with a woman, but... No. He's tired. Exhausted, actually. He puts his elbows on the bar, takes another sip of water, but it's that want for a nail that a kingdom is lost; he hangs his head, closes his eyes, and breathes. Just for a few seconds. He can be fully fucking tired for a few seconds. ]

My apologies. I have the capacity to be careful. I promise.