[Oh, Ahsoka. His life is almost nothing but regrets. Some selfish, some simply the tattered remains of a guy who was actually not so far from normal — perhaps mentally unwell at times, sometimes questioning where his mind would end up, but normal. He was just a little over twenty, then. And he regrets almost everything in-between. Regrets being a failure of a husband and father. Regrets caring so much that he'd lost his mind. Regrets still having some semblance of humanity left, that he can't just leave people here behind and put a wall up between him and them. Regrets Glory and Hope and how many old demons that had stirred in his head. Regrets Angharad falling, another babe — another sprog — dying needlessly because of his recklessness.
Max doesn't see the cycle, though. He doesn't realize he's forced himself into one.
Rinse and repeat. He cares, he's scared of caring, he doesn't deserve the good, and he walks away.
Always, he walks away.
He sits, silent as sin. His head barely twitches, a 'yes', but he barely seems to be there. In the room with her.]
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Max doesn't see the cycle, though. He doesn't realize he's forced himself into one.
Rinse and repeat. He cares, he's scared of caring, he doesn't deserve the good, and he walks away.
Always, he walks away.
He sits, silent as sin. His head barely twitches, a 'yes', but he barely seems to be there. In the room with her.]
Mn.