[ It sure is a moodkiller, but hey, it works. Fuuta promptly gives a flustered sputtering noise, clearly at a loss for words. ]

Who said -- that's -- [ An awkward huff as he squirms in place a little bit. Because, like. How the hell is he supposed to respond to that? ] -- that's not what I was saying? S'not like ... I think bad things can't happen. It's just ... I meant thinking you gotta take advantage of everything is what's edgy ...

[ And vaguely, at the back of his mind, he thinks, 'How should I know what it's like to take care of your disabled mother. I barely even remember mine.' But for as tactless and brusque as he can be, even he knows better than to voice a thought like that out loud. Ultimately, he ends up averting his gaze, arms crossed over his chest in clear discomfort as he mumbles, ]

... s'not like I don't think you've had it rough.