[ when beau says 'i know', it doesn't feel fake or ingenuine. they're similar in a lot of ways, a lot of mindsets; he's figured that out after just a couple of weeks. to feel like this - furious and bitter and angry at the entire world, at the unfairness of a situation, of running into a brick wall no matter how many times he wants to scream and tear it down - is something that has followed ichiro his entire life, and he knows, knows that screaming and attacking it never makes it better. he knows, losing his head does nothing.

he can't stop himself, though. even now, he struggles with it, trapped somewhere in between grown up and responsible and the hotheaded kid he'd been just a couple years ago and never quite able to put both feet in one box. he has to calm down.

there's another deep breath, and he exhales, reaching up to scrub at his face, just for something to do with his free hand. ] Like what? I don't - everything in this shitty place comes with a risk. I'd rather take that knowing I can handle it than -- shit, Beau, half the people here are kids.

[ he doesn't see himself in that category, not really. ] It was Lan Wangji this time. What if next week it's Mabel? Hope? I can't let that happen. I can't, [ the frustration peaks, here, almost cracking his voice with a little bit of desperation ] and I don't know what to do to keep people safe here. I don't even know where to start.