He laughs lowly although there is zero humour in it. "A lot of bad things have happened. To everyone."

So he's not special, so he has no right to complain, because really what does he have to complain about? He's alive, he has a place to live, he has work -- of a sort. He knows it's irrational to think this way, he would never once suggest to anyone else that their problems aren't important because they're not starving in the streets, but. Knowing and believing aren't the same thing.

He picks something less personal. "There was a demon out in Howl Barrow." Was. "It hurt a lot of people. Kids." He stares at his hand, eyes tracing the curve of the scar. "I've seen a lot of evil things -- I mean really evil, not just... bad. It wasn't that different. I'm different. It used to be easy -- make the evil thing go away, and then things were better, but... things don't get better here. They don't really get better anywhere. It's just -- this," he touches the scar on his forehead lightly, "all the time, everywhere."