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"I-I don't get kissed much." Oliver muttered. Then he shook his head.

"I-it's our job, right? To go out there and fight bad things so other people can be safe." He dared a glance in Chance's direction, his expression serious. "I think, um, I did it right. B-but I was scared... A-and I don't know if I'll ever be brave enough to do it again."

He put both hands on top of his head, curling up again. "I just keep seeing it... H-how did I even face it in the first place..."

Oliver ignored the kissing comment. Or at least he tried to, the blush spread all the way to his ears. Chance was right, it did take his mind off things. And as much as he didn't want to think about it, being kissed wasn't bad.

"I-I think there's more to it sometimes..." He said, his voice shaky not from fear, but from uncertain and unfamiliar and embarrassing thoughts about kissing another guy. "If it was just staying alive, I could have run away... B-but I stayed, a-and... I think I was even okay with dying..."

Oliver tossed back the rest of the whiskey and winced. It was so awful, why did anyone willingly drink this stuff?

"I think... um, it would be really painful to have to let someone die... I-it hurts, thinking about it, I can't..." The teen rubbed his head like the thoughts were too much for him. "It hurts, seeing people dying when I try to sleep..."

"I-I'm not, anymore... um, I d-don't think." Oliver protested weakly. Sure he was still afraid most of the time like before, but there were things he wanted to learn, and people he wanted to stay with. As terrifying as it was, somehow he had survived that mission, it gave him hope that he could continue to survive without putting anyone else in harm's way.

"I thought I didn't want to live if it hurt other people." This was the first time he had really talked about the thoughts that had plagued him as a trainee. "B-but I got stronger, and I think... it might be okay to keep trying."

Oliver looked over and happened to meet Chance's eyes. "Even if their life is their own responsibility... it still hurts... They are my friends, even just imagining them in pain, i-it hurts a lot."

"I-I didn't think the two were mutually exclusive." Oliver replied, looking down at his empty cup. "I thought... that I was only here to die. A-and then friends seemed to happen along the way."

It was a good thing for the boy that he had made friends, without them he would still be the scared marshmallow he had arrived as. Or he would be dead. They had helped him survive by making him stronger, protecting him when things went south, and even just giving him a desire to survive. And as a result, he wanted them to live too. And be free from pain. Hell, he couldn't even see minipets in pain without feeling pain himself.

His mouth twisted miserably. "I can't just push all my feelings aside, I wish I could, then maybe I wouldn't end up crying all the time. I-it's really pathetic."

Oliver merely stared at his empty cup, and gave a small shake of the head when the bottle was offered. It stretched into a longer silence before he replied. "Apparently I'm not here to die," he said, a wry self-depreciation in his tone. "I could have, I guess I almost did."

Then he rubbed his head. "I wish I could get rid of them. They make it hard to sleep... And they make me cry a lot, and there are times I just hate being so... girly. There's no way I could make this scar 'badass' if things always end in tears." No matter what Horace had said, he would never claim such a cool description for that simple reason, he had the emotional resiliency of tissue paper. And that was not attractive or confidence inspiring.

Chance was probably right, there was nothing good about feelings.

"I want to live," Oliver said, this time with some insistence in his tone. Perhaps it was more firm than any statement he had given since waking up on the island. He might not know how he was going to live, or even if he would survive his next mission, but now he had people he wanted to live for.

The boy sighed dispiritedly. Chance was right, labels were what you made of them. But he knew he was too fragile to last outside those little boxes, that was a place for strong people who were up to the task of not giving a damn. He would need more than a physical workout to become strong enough for that.

He gave Chance a shy, sad glance. "I wish I wasn't so afraid of everything. But you could probably go up against one of those titan things and not flinch for a second. Do you ever feel afraid?"

"I think... At that point I wanted those two hunters to live more? I don't know." Oliver shook his head, avoiding the man's skeptical expression.

"Don't you have friends you are afraid for, when they are sent out on missions? I'm afraid for them... Even though I know they will do their best. A-and it's not my fault if something bad happens." Oliver slid into a more slouched position. He was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and seemed to be rambling on a little more than usual. Maybe Chance was easy to talk to. Or maybe Oliver just needed to talk.