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"He just always struck me as... y'know. I dunno. Confident. Like everything he did was easy. Never thinks twice. Knows what he wants and how to get it." He made quiet noise under his breath at that. "I dunno. I know I've... I mean... I was a mess before I got here, let alone... I dunno." His brain felt like it was shutting down. It wasn't dissociation, or whatever it was that came over him. He just felt tired without the surge of adrenalin of hate that left only the hurt and betrayal behind.

"I still love her. I just wish... I don't know. I'm just stupid, I guess, like they all say."

Jerry sagged down to the floor, hugging the broken guitar to his chest as he tucked his face behind the neck. "I died once y'know." He sniffed. "I mean. Really died. They said so. I don't understand how I'm not dead. But I died for her. Didn't think about it. Just... didn't want her incinerated." His voice was quiet. "I c-call that pretty s-s-stupid."

His grandmother had treated him like a kid until she had passed away. His students never respected him. His classmates had always bullied him. What had made him think here on the island things would be any different? Again. Stupid.

As the realization dawned on him, the hysterics bubbled up again, "I... I c-can't look in the mirror... without thinking about her." He pressed his scarred cheek against the cool wood of the battered guitar neck, eyes clenched shut.

Somehow, against all odds, Robert's choice of words actually did make Jerry feel a little better. Not much better about the whole Candace situation, but it did make him feel better about himself. And that was half the battle, right?

He sniffed, falling quiet as he gave a soft noise to at least let his friend know he heard him, but was happy to just sit and be moody and miserable in silence for several minutes. Eventually, the guitar started to at least try to make chords again, his fingers somehow pulling a rhythm of notes that sounded off without the E-string, and sadly slipping from tune, but somehow that didn't hurt the melody.

Without his usual gusto, mostly under his breath, he sang softly but in key to make up for his ruined instrument, "There was a boy... A very strange enchanted boy.... They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye, But very wise was he..."

He sniffed, but the tremble that had previously been in his voice translated to the song well enough. Music was therapy.

"And then one day, a magic day He passed my way, and while we spoke Of many things, fools and kings This he said to me...

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return"

He let the notes hang in the air, his hands slowing on the remaining strings before he let it go silent as well.

Jerry had been far away before he realized Robert was speaking, and took several more moments to digest the words, "My... " His brows furrowed, his voice cracking, "You... you think I still aught to do it? I.. I found a few people who were in... interested but... I dunno if.. if I should bother anymore. It was a pretty silly idea. You.. .you don't have to. I know.. I know how you felt about it," He swallowed and sniffed, rubbing his face with his sleeve again as he practically hid behind the guitar. His voice grew more quiet, "But... but it means a lot to me. You saying that."

Jerry wobbled and flinched as the door was suddenly punched, drunk enough to not be outraged at least- he had done a fairly good job of trashing the room before Robert even got there, what was the point in complaining? But the wind had been taken out of him, and honestly he was content to lay in a puddle of misery for the rest of his life.

"Like.. like what?" He managed weakly, gripping the guitar tightly as he gazed up at the larger hunter as though his beefy fists held the secrets to the universe.

"Beer pong?" While Jerry had his share of alcohol related stories, they generally involved hiding in his room or moping in a bar. The boisterous good time of college party games were for people who had actually had friends and went to parties.

"But we don't have any beer," He wobbled, looking on the verge of tears at the tragedy of their empty metaphorical glasses.

As though entranced, Jerry followed after if only for the desperate need for distraction. He wasn't sure his heart was in a game. But his heart was definitely not into getting pummeled nor sat upon again. Sniffing, he wobbled to his feet, still clinging desperately to the battered guitar like a lost child clutching a beloved teddybear. "O-ok.. but... but we... we can't 'zactly call it Beer Pong with no beer. Maybe. Maybe. Crumpled Up Paper Pong?" he ventured distantly.

Jerry wobbled after, humming softly under his breath. Getting out and getting his mind off of things helped. The liquor in his system helped. He almost forgot it was the middle of the afternoon. It felt like midnight. "I'm not... terribly hungry," He mumbled. He was pretty sure eating anything would not be a good idea, considering the state of his stomach. But he was happy to be along for the ride. "Maybe they... keep some cooking wine..." Judging by the usual state of their meals, he doubted it. But it was a hopeful thought.