He shakes his head; it's too much. It is too much, and if he stops to think about it, he won't be able to breathe anymore, and he can't have that. Wouldn't that be rich, him, having a fit in the middle of the bar. Him? The guy who's never at a loss for words, the guy who's never shook up, who always has a smile at the ready for anyone who needs it and everyone else too.


"I can't talk about it." He shakes his head; if he wasn't rooted to the spot, he'd be off the stool and running already.