Char's anger always burned hot. Shouted words and the whipcrack of tails. Teeth and flames and fists. As frustrating and obtuse as he could be, his anger, at least, was open and honest. It blazed blisteringly until it was all used up, but it didn't hide anything.

This time, there wasn't any heat.

There was a good reason why Char was so slow to let bits and pieces of himself be known, and why he shoved away any bits and pieces of others that were offered to him. Those little bits of trust could be weaponized too, too easily. He'd just done it himself, knowing how much Vinnie had struggled with where he belonged. It was probably no less than fair that he had it thrown at him too.

That didn't dull the hurt in the least. There never was any dulling these Kerosene-deep cuts. Char looked suddenly airless, his posturing vanishing as his tail limply wilted against the floor and his wings crumpled in close against his back. There wasn't any huffy glancing away or fiery protests this time: he met Vinnie's eyes, stare wide and unflinching as it began to almost palpably freeze over.

He didn't have a single leg to stand on, and he knew it. He couldn't call Vinnie wrong or act like respect meant nothing when the memory that had been dragged out of him had proven all those pathetic, vulnerable points right. There'd been a time when he'd vigilantly refused to let any of his weaknesses shine through, lest Vinnie use them against him, but somehow, he'd stopped actually expecting that to happen. It had caught him utterly unprepared, and it smarted all the worse because of it.

Couldn't deny it, couldn't shrug it off: he swallowed it whole, in the same sealed-away Kerosene way he used to know so well. "I got by fine without your respect before this. I'll get by without it now." He couldn't even muster up the fire to raise his voice for it.

He had nothing left to toss at Vinnie after that. He got out of the doorway, turning to leave Vinnie to the shattered remains of his mug.