"... I was getting better about it... but I don't know who's going to be freaked out about it. I..." He shook his head a little bit. "I used to get picked on all the time. I helped out my dad in his funeral parlor, including the embalming, and I smelled like it."

He pulled an arm in front of him, letting him lean on it a bit. "Among other things. ... But I... it's... scary." He opened his eyes, looking down at the stump and touching the marks on it gently. "... I know I didn't fail. It still feels like it - sorry. Sorry, you're a medic, not a therapist. I shouldn't be putting this on you."