Don't give me that shite, the worst of it's been fucking over.

[ He snaps without really meaning to, an unbidden nod to that very same flame. Of course she gives him nothing, because there's really nothing to be done, is there? Fred wasn't there for it, won't even be there to see the end of it (again, he thinks, won't be there again), so telling him won't change a thing. Won't fix what's been broken, and he would laugh at that, how there's always something bloody broken, if he weren't busy seething.

But he calms himself, inhales deeply and goes right back to clenching his jaw shut. Taking it out on Gin will get them nowhere, he knows, and Fred doesn't want to be angry, much as he does so excel at it. He doesn't want to keep fighting. It's been over for them, long since. He knows that one in the stillness of his heart.

A beat, a swallow; he tries again, lighter this time, half-hearted jest, but he's trying. ]

Don't s'pose I can go visit him, or have I got to break into the hospital? I've really no scruples against the latter, might even be a bit of fun.