[ his fingers, laced together and on the table, grip more tightly and dig into his knuckles - until they're two separate balls of white-knuckled death grip, trembling on the surface of the table. he mutters, unintentionally quiet but his throat has closed up from the - ugly, ugly feeling, the black welling up in his chest. it comes out, throaty and ugly, as he stands abruptly ]

As if you could understand something like that weight to bear! You—