"Hey, brains are different. My brain is the only human thing I have left in me, you know?" She's not sure the distinction makes much difference. Being taken apart and pieced back together is... she'll let that stay where it is. Because she can talk like she's mature about it, but she doesn't have the words or thoughts to properly speak to it right now. Maybe she's better at pretending when she's not talking.

Maybe she needs a change of subject. She can sense that this is a big deal with him, his relationship with his brother. It's hard not to notice it. There's a pang in the thrumming black box that is her heart, and unbeknownst to her it seems to show in the form of a spiderweb glow, a pulse across the surface of it that vanishes as soon as it appears.

"I'm the same with my little sister. I haven't talked to her in, like, thirteen years, but I wanted to be there for her, you know? I wanted to make sure that she was safe from the world. I fought so many battles for her." She looks up at the ceiling and smiles a little, remembering the way she was always ready to throw hands. But it disappears just as soon as she starts talking again. "I was so afraid to let her see me break down that when my parents kicked me out, I just got on a bus and left her behind." There's more to it—so, so much more, but this is just the relatable part for now.

"It's a lot. Trying to pretend it's okay so the people who look up to you don't have to worry."