[Well. All of that near-righteous frustration is almost sapped from him with the way Vergilius looks at him. The touch against his cheek. Daan closes his eyes briefly, his lips trembling for a moment before he hesitantly leans his head into the fingertips daring to touch him.

Yeah. That's fair. At least half of what he said -- if not more -- was probably also describing a bit of himself. Yet he's a bleeding heart in a lot of ways, too. His stark inability to turn his back on patients who genuinely need help. He's a sucker, sometimes.

Maybe Vergilius is, too.]

I don't know that I'm that much different, to be honest.

[Carefully, he reaches up to touch the back of Vergilius' hand.]

I'm not unfamiliar with the amount of blood on my hands, too. Maybe it's drops in a pool in comparison, but it's there.

But I wouldn't ask you to be anyone else other than who you are.