[Despite all of his gusto and keenness on reputation, Reaper knew that he was a broken man. There were parts of him that had come apart and been put back together again over and over, and he had learned very specific coping mechanisms. He had seen the worst of humanity through the war, through the peacetime and through the collapse of Overwatch. He had also seen the best with family, the birth of his son, the friends that he had made - then almost all of them lost - and the constant striving for a sense of peace with his allies.
He knew that to be broken and repair wasn't the worst thing. Nothing would be sunshine and roses except in short periods, but the scars of old traumas would remain. They didn't have to be present or on the mind all the time, but they remained a baggage that would shape a person's character and responses to future events. He had no time for rose-coloured glasses. Sometimes it was comforting to know things weren't okay and get on with it.
He was good at reading body language, but he was also very good at understanding subtle changes in the air around people. Because Lance toed a line a little too close for comfort sometimes, he could tell that maybe, just maybe, they had reached an iota of understanding with one another. The admittance didn't hurt.]
You will. It's okay to take time to rest and heal, you know. Read a book, sleep, eat something, stare into space. [That would work both physically and mentally. But Lance would heal. He didn't think the kid was so bad as to need intervention.] Better to have someone who understands and hate them then suffer alone. I'm proof things break and there's still a life on the other side.
[He didn't move, stoic in his stance holding up the beam. Lance could take the hammer to him, and he'd probably let the kid at this point.] But you will heal, Lance. The damage to you will scar up, and you won't be able to always do and experience things the same way, but you'll go on.
[He sighed through his nose.] Hate me all you want, but if you need to talk or yell or hit something, all you need to do is find me.
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He knew that to be broken and repair wasn't the worst thing. Nothing would be sunshine and roses except in short periods, but the scars of old traumas would remain. They didn't have to be present or on the mind all the time, but they remained a baggage that would shape a person's character and responses to future events. He had no time for rose-coloured glasses. Sometimes it was comforting to know things weren't okay and get on with it.
He was good at reading body language, but he was also very good at understanding subtle changes in the air around people. Because Lance toed a line a little too close for comfort sometimes, he could tell that maybe, just maybe, they had reached an iota of understanding with one another. The admittance didn't hurt.]
You will. It's okay to take time to rest and heal, you know. Read a book, sleep, eat something, stare into space. [That would work both physically and mentally. But Lance would heal. He didn't think the kid was so bad as to need intervention.] Better to have someone who understands and hate them then suffer alone. I'm proof things break and there's still a life on the other side.
[He didn't move, stoic in his stance holding up the beam. Lance could take the hammer to him, and he'd probably let the kid at this point.] But you will heal, Lance. The damage to you will scar up, and you won't be able to always do and experience things the same way, but you'll go on.
[He sighed through his nose.] Hate me all you want, but if you need to talk or yell or hit something, all you need to do is find me.