He pauses, considering that. Not just the touch but the words as well. So much of this place sets him on that edge of confusion and uncertainty. So many decades of being treated a certain way, of living as an outcast, as the violent leader because without his violence, they'll be so much worse.

"I feel hollow," he admits, touching a hand to his solar plexus. "Whatever it is that happened to us in Hell, I never realized I could feel it. Not until this place when I couldn't feel it again. I spent a long time being a mouse, and longer the predator. Now?"

He shrugs, making a face. "Now I don't know. Like you said, I feel broken, but I'm not sure which way I'm supposed to go back together."

He doesn't talk about this. Not with many. Hardly with anyone. He's never sure why with Bull, but he feels comfortable with him, as if he doesn't have to hide who he has been at any point. There's no reason to.