[ Abbacchio had tried too. To build walls around himself and shut others out, push them away, to protect both himself and others. It was futile in the end. Cracks appeared in those walls as soon as Bucciarati had offered him a second chance, and they'd only gotten more sprawling with every act of compassion, had grown bigger in size with each new addition to their team. He'd never been very good at keeping himself emotionally detached, anyway. It was something he could do when necessitated. When he was on the job and there were clear-cut lines between business and personal. Those lines became blurred within their small team though, and over time it became harder to compartmentalize and maintain those walls. ]

Mm, you're right.

[ Sometimes, it feels like that's all he knows. Enduring pain. Letting it build, and build until it's an unbearable weight on his shoulders. Before eventually, it causes him to buckle, to keel under the burden that he can no longer bear, and it has him crawling on his hands and knees; seeking absolution for past sins. He knows this, and he knows it never ends well for him. But endure he must, and so endure he does. ]

I get the feeling he'd probably be pissed at us if he knew we were sitting around on our asses moping.

[ The corners of his lips quirk upwards, barely visible for long, but it was there. He's trying. He doesn't want this to devolve again, to let his emotions get the better of him, and he doesn't think Bucciarati wants that either. ]