[It's a spot of relief. It's something Nekane will hear in his breath, the way it rushes out on something too quiet and too strained to really be a laugh. He's not sure if the relief is more for the concession, the show of mercy, or for not actually having to admit what's eating him alive worse than even this place has managed. Yet.]

No questions.

[He can agree to that. It's fair enough.

He'll go first. He leans back in the chair, head tilted back a little as the blood drips down. His eyes close.]

I resented it. I resented them. When my friends went home to their families and I stayed in the plaza. Sometimes I'd stay because it was the best place to play my music, but sometimes I just wanted to see if anyone would miss me. I'd think about hiding before they showed up, just to see if they cared. Como un idiota.