[ that prompts a familiar smirk, lacking in all warmth and amusement. ]

Gonna feed me some new lie about hope and how this is a chance at something different? Fucking spare me, Sam. I don't care.

[ he's tempted to throw another punch or five, so tempted, but instead his fists remain at his sides, squeezing knuckle white. ]

And then run to him? What does he say, anyway? Something about not being so bad-- about how he's not the fuckin' monster that stole everything, who destroys lives left and right?