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[ He hears static when Inigo speaks, as he recalls his experiences with him. Nervous energy vibrating all around that small little bathroom they were cleaning together. And he knows he hasn't felt this way in a long, long time.

The first instance of this beast coming out to rear its ugly head was when he was younger than Inigo, even. He knows what that's like. To be the underdog, the one they've deemed weaker, the one that's too small to fight back, so instead you just take it all in and hope one day they'll grow too tired to hurt you. Maybe one day, they'll move on, or you'll grow bigger, just like them. And it'll all be over.

But if only things were that easy. Roland's stony expression is a facade for the bubbling temper slowly coming to the surface. He turns to look at Inigo, watching him move like he's about to dart out of the bathroom and run away. He didn't mean to make him nervous, but Roland promised to protect him, and this is what he's been going through without him knowing? From someone coming from their team? Roland sees Inigo's face fall, accepting it, vulnerable and raw. In his eyes, something far too familiar. Acceptance. Grief.

Jackass. Knock your teeth in.

Roland's knuckles begin to tremble with the force of his grip against the rim of the sink. But he hasn't uttered a word. Not a single sound.

Phony. Loser. Spineless. Nobody loves him.

When he exhales, there's a heaviness there. Something holding him back, but even that is starting to fade, the chains growing brittle in his anger. ]