The first wounded noise out of Pitchiner has Jack lurching forward on some half-formed instinct to do something about it. He's halted by his leg bumping up against the coffee table, and it frustrates him, but he thinks that maybe he should be glad for the obstruction because— what, what was he going to do, crawl over there and hug the General? It's so awful not to be able to do anything, though, and Jack's eyes are stinging as he listens to all of this.
"I take back what I said about you not being stupid, but only because that's stupid." His own voice comes out just as bad as Pitchiner's, weak and cracking in places. Jack wants to keep all of his focus on the General, but he has to swipe at his eyes because for fuck's sake, he's not going to sit here and actually cry when General Pitchiner is the one who's lost everything. He keeps pushing, insistent, "You're a person, not some— some infallible war machine. You can't do everything, sir, you can't know everything, it's not your fault. You didn't set up that trap, and you didn't make the fearlings attack."
It's not fair. It's not fair that this is happening to Kozmotis Pitchiner, who tries so hard to protect everyone, it's not fair that he blames himself for it, it's not fair that he's stuck with Jack trying to help with this instead of someone better suited. In the end, it's too much for him to sit with his mounting horror over the fact that the General is breaking down in front of him and that the man thinks this tragedy was his own fault. The distant therapist treatment isn't something that Jack can keep up. When his sister was caught up in the fearling attack, Jack couldn't save her. If no one else had stepped in, both of the siblings would have died there, they had the scars to prove it, and he had hated himself for it. Afterwards, no one had ever tried to tell Jack that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't blame himself for not being enough to protect her. He may not be good for much, but he can make sure that it isn't like that for General Pitchiner.
Jack leans forward out of his seat and reaches across the table between them to lay his own hands over Pitchiner's. He doesn't pull, just trying to patiently ease their grip loose, to bring them down and away from where Pitchiner is tearing his hair out. And he stays like that, somewhere awkwardly half out of his seat, trying to lean over a table to comfort someone properly, his hold on the General's hands gentle and loose.
"I don't care, alright," he says, firm but kind, a resolute and earnest care showing through, "I don't care if you don't believe me right now, because I'm going to keep saying it anyway. It's not your fault. And I'm, I'm going to tell you that every day — forever, if I have to, if you won't believe it."
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"I take back what I said about you not being stupid, but only because that's stupid." His own voice comes out just as bad as Pitchiner's, weak and cracking in places. Jack wants to keep all of his focus on the General, but he has to swipe at his eyes because for fuck's sake, he's not going to sit here and actually cry when General Pitchiner is the one who's lost everything. He keeps pushing, insistent, "You're a person, not some— some infallible war machine. You can't do everything, sir, you can't know everything, it's not your fault. You didn't set up that trap, and you didn't make the fearlings attack."
It's not fair. It's not fair that this is happening to Kozmotis Pitchiner, who tries so hard to protect everyone, it's not fair that he blames himself for it, it's not fair that he's stuck with Jack trying to help with this instead of someone better suited. In the end, it's too much for him to sit with his mounting horror over the fact that the General is breaking down in front of him and that the man thinks this tragedy was his own fault. The distant therapist treatment isn't something that Jack can keep up. When his sister was caught up in the fearling attack, Jack couldn't save her. If no one else had stepped in, both of the siblings would have died there, they had the scars to prove it, and he had hated himself for it. Afterwards, no one had ever tried to tell Jack that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't blame himself for not being enough to protect her. He may not be good for much, but he can make sure that it isn't like that for General Pitchiner.
Jack leans forward out of his seat and reaches across the table between them to lay his own hands over Pitchiner's. He doesn't pull, just trying to patiently ease their grip loose, to bring them down and away from where Pitchiner is tearing his hair out. And he stays like that, somewhere awkwardly half out of his seat, trying to lean over a table to comfort someone properly, his hold on the General's hands gentle and loose.
"I don't care, alright," he says, firm but kind, a resolute and earnest care showing through, "I don't care if you don't believe me right now, because I'm going to keep saying it anyway. It's not your fault. And I'm, I'm going to tell you that every day — forever, if I have to, if you won't believe it."