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"Look, I know the little one doesn't always act like it but I did raise those first two to say shit with their fuckin' chests."

why would you want me in your life? (hey Abel, Dad's in a weirdly self-aware mood)

What kind of trick question is that?

"Uh..." Abel huffs an uncomfortable chuckle. This feels... odd in a way that he can't quite put his finger on. It could just be that the vibe had shifted from where it was just moments ago—it still hadn't been great—but something about this new vibe is... oddly specific. Reasonably uncomfortable.

"Because... you're my dad? Why—I mean, why wouldn't I want you in my life?" There are probably a few reasons that could be conjured up quite quickly, but Abel, personally, can't think of a single one that would stop him from wanting his father in his life. (Maybe that says more about him than he'd like it to.) "I know we don't always, like, see eye-to-eye on things, but nobody agrees on everything all the time. Right?" As if he doesn't know that for a fact.

"Fuckin'... just... gimme a sec, okay? Just... thinking about shit lately. Must be a thunderstorm coming up on the schedule or something, you know they fuck with my head."

More specifically, they make the entire middle of his face hurt, and they overwhelm his vision with white, but that's un-fucking-related. He can't tune it out like he can tune out the raspberry-colored pops that bloom at the edges of his vision whenever the kid opens his mouth.

In his defense, he... also hadn't meant to say that out loud. It's been a lot of that lately, actually. Being grounded, especially with no end date for said grounding, gives a guy time to think, and whatever Raphael is giving him for the ache in his ribs and back is making him too fuzzy even to work on his personal stuff. So maybe because he can't get the thoughts out on paper or out on the strings, they're just coming out whenever.