"Everything." Gladio replied mildly. He'd pulled mugs down and found the tea bags. Shaking out first one and then the other, he smiled softly down into the mugs.

"I'm not calling you out so you spill your soul to me, kid. I like you. You've got a good heart. And you're tough. I can see that. But..." Gladio dropped the bags into the mugs and reached for the sugar. He liked his tea sweet. "... Keeping stuff bottled up will hurt you. Leaves a scar on that soul of yours. Wounds way deeper than you'd give them credit for. Eventually wounds like that'll tear you apart. It almost did me." Gladio had bottled so much up, even before the train. Once he was trapped on the train with nowhere to go, he'd been forced to confront it all and had fallen into a downward spiral of depression that had taken him a while to crawl out of. And it had hurt...