[Cliff gives a little nod -- feeling safe was good, and so was the feeling of making someone else feel safe. If he thinks about it more like that, it's easier to stomp down the anger at himself for not having any pride left to keep hold of. It helps that it's true.

The rest makes him sigh and want to pull away, but he doesn't do more than curl his finger to take hold of his hoodie right alongside Héctor. He slides over a knuckle in the process and it strikes him how different Héctor's hands were from his, his mom's, Kevin's, and especially Carl's. They're different from Coco's, too, but the deprivation of touch that was normally welcome makes him think of that same warmth, like being wrapped safely up in a blanket. He hopes...he never manages to hurt Coco the same way he'd hurt everyone else that made him feel that way.]

I told you, don't worry about it. Don't know what to do without someone around to call me out on my bullshit after the last few years, anyway. [...] Might pay to see some glass-chewing, though.