On the house roof, on another damn Friday. It started sleeting and we had to bolt back inside, and then we stayed in my room.

[She might not have asked for the extra details, but they tumble out anyway, like he's trying to prove that he remembers to himself, too.]

Shit--Heather, I'm really sorry for everything today. That you had to deal with...that.

[The now very recent memory of the old him, all the vicious bitterness and violence, clings like a greasy film on unwashed dishes. And the things he'd been thinking all day directed at her, at Joker, makes his stomach turn now.]

I'm sorry.