He hesitates before answering, mostly because he's not really sure which conversation-- or tangent, or whatever-- set him off the way it did. It's not like anything said to or about him was that bad. That one anonymous prick aside, it was all pretty well-meaning.
"A little," he says finally. "It... wasn't just you, I mean-- you didn't even-- not much." He takes a breath. God, he wants another drink, or like, to say something silly and distracting, or anything but talk about his own immature bullshit. But now that he's started, he can't stop himself from talking.
"It was just everything. That asshole saying I needed therapy and I was shameful or whatever, then the other guy jumping in to talk about why my kinks are valid-- I mean, I know he was trying to help, but it was, like, no one was talking to me, they were just talking about me. And then Vash accused me of joking about what I like, then when I tried to explain things, he kept being like, 'oh but I still don't get why anyone would like that' over and over--"
He takes another breath, then swallows thickly. For a moment, Jeff looks over his shoulder at Bash, almost apologetic for unloading all of this. Fucking alcohol. He's running out of steam, though, as he continues. "And on top of that, I went and totally misinterpreted some of the stuff we'd done, and thought it was something it wasn't and-- It was fucking... It was a lot, that's all. I just felt like a fucking freak of nature that everyone was picking apart."
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"A little," he says finally. "It... wasn't just you, I mean-- you didn't even-- not much." He takes a breath. God, he wants another drink, or like, to say something silly and distracting, or anything but talk about his own immature bullshit. But now that he's started, he can't stop himself from talking.
"It was just everything. That asshole saying I needed therapy and I was shameful or whatever, then the other guy jumping in to talk about why my kinks are valid-- I mean, I know he was trying to help, but it was, like, no one was talking to me, they were just talking about me. And then Vash accused me of joking about what I like, then when I tried to explain things, he kept being like, 'oh but I still don't get why anyone would like that' over and over--"
He takes another breath, then swallows thickly. For a moment, Jeff looks over his shoulder at Bash, almost apologetic for unloading all of this. Fucking alcohol. He's running out of steam, though, as he continues. "And on top of that, I went and totally misinterpreted some of the stuff we'd done, and thought it was something it wasn't and-- It was fucking... It was a lot, that's all. I just felt like a fucking freak of nature that everyone was picking apart."