He jerks around to face York and then turns back to face the bar, looking away from them both. This is awful. He wishes he'd left straight away. He can't do this. It's a terrible idea and he doesn't even deserve any kind of second chance. He digs his thumb into a groove in the wood of the bar, drags his nail along the length of it.

"I can't stop being who I am," he says flatly. "I can't be fixed. I'm sorry I'm a fucking awful person."