There are words that lodge themselves in his throat. A question that he doesn't dare ask. A request for her to sing again, because for all that it's clear that she hasn't had professional training, nor even perhaps the supposedly helpful and rather heavy hand of a once-been high school glee instructor, there's something beautiful in the raw quality of it. Something that he wants to hear again and commit to memory, for all of its flaws and imperfections, before deciding to help wear them away. But he's not a fool, and far less self-centered than the world might believe.

The scars outweigh his desire. Maybe that's a problem.

"Why apologize? Heck, sister, I'm not going to blame you for responding to how dozens of people must have already responded. We make assumptions for a reason, after all," he replies, as lightly as he can, biting down on his lip soon after.

"It bothers you, doesn't it?"