Steven bundles his over-long sleeves around himself scrunching up his face to try to avert the inevitable crying session that feels like it's coming on.

"He's... a human. I'm not anymore," he says, more like he's working through a thought that having a conversation. "I never was?"

He grabs at his belly reflectively, remembering a flash of old pain. He can still feel it, under his shirt. He starts tearing up, because he feels so helpless like this - this boy is just trying to talk to him like a normal person but he can't stop having some kind of crazy episode every other sentence. He hates it, and more than anything, he wishes he could make it stop.