"Was is kind of the key there, fuckin' isn't it?" Kavinsky bit. He just shook his head at that idea that he'd done anything right. All he'd done, from the moment he'd wandered into Newt's life, had been one vague mess after another, one cautionary uncertainty of what the hell he was doing as he looked at how gently Al and Newt fit together, once he saw them together, and tried to not wonder what the hell he was bringing to the table.

He spread his hands expansively. The one he'd slammed into Newt's wall still hurt, the fingers still stiff, but he'd taped up the knuckles neatly, used to that sort of thing from years of it.

"What was I gonna say, Newt? I've been trying to keep this even keel since the fuckin' start, okay, I know I'm side dish--don't you fuckin' act like I'm not, don't--just don't--"

He rubbed his temple aggressively, trying to stay angry rather than hurt, trying to keep up all his thorns, but it was so exhausting. His eyes stung.