He didn't mind the touching, but he didn't know how to respond, so he just dug his spoon into the brown mound again and brought some up to his mouth, his movement jerky and a little awkward. The tears were still sitting in his eyes, feeling wet and warm and stingy and what Aradia said didn't make it any better.

Two of the tears broke away down his cheeks, and then he gave his head a shake, "Yeah, I knoww. I knoww she hates me and about her fetish and Rose and all that. Doesn't change my feelins or..." he shook his head, "I need to stop bein' pathetic. Fuck."

He sighed, looking down at his ice cream. What he needed was John. Aradia was helping a lot, but what he really needed was someone who understood him and would listen, "I'm just sick a bein' treated like a murderer wwhen I'm not."