i wanna tell you a story. ain't got no characters in it but me. i wanna sing you a sad song. most of it i don't expect you to believe. it starts off just the whiskey and wine, miles of travel and some real good times. but it ends in a dark corridor, and there ain't no windows and there ain't no doors.
[It's hard for Brady to admit, to accept, but he's a healer for reasons other than being too physically frail to carve a path to victory on the battlefield — it's natural for him to put others first. So it isn't all that surprising that it's someone else's pain, rather than his own, that succeeds in pulling Brady out of the mire of his anger and fear. Gives him something to focus on, channel his energies into.]
Severa, cut it out! You're gonna break yer hands like that!
[He tries to drag her away from the glass, hands on her upper arms.]
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Severa, cut it out! You're gonna break yer hands like that!
[He tries to drag her away from the glass, hands on her upper arms.]