That cliff still shows the scars of Wanda dropping it on his head. The weather has worn it down over the years and you wouldn't notice it if you weren't looking. He looks. He always looks.
"A lot," he answers with his own sip of mead. He moves his legs up to act as a kind of knee-table for himself as he listens to the waves. "I don't like my past," he admit after a lull. "But I made my peace with it, and what place I occupy now. Grace just threw that." He takes another sip. "You were starting to already, but Grace just completely threw it, and I can't tell her that because she's the kind of girl that will think she screwed up and...She didn't. I did."
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