I don't know. [He really doesn't. He was just kind of assuming.] Victory forgiveness or something.

[His gaze slides away like oil on water, snagging on the weights and the still-swinging bag. He's never gotten or given a good reason for it. Once again he finds himself thinking of Kon, how disappointed he'd be. This isn't how a warden's supposed to act.]

It makes me feel better. And this time . . . I thought it'd help him, too.

[He had felt so grounded, afterwards. Like one stupid thing was in his control. A leftover of his old life: if people are going to hurt him anyway, he might as well control how.]