Something about what he'd just said hit Robby hard, and Jack had no idea what it was. If he was feeling less like he was, he would have questioned that expression, dug into it, tried to understand Robby more. But it seemed like he was the only one in this friendship that tried to understand the other person right now and he resented that.

"Yes, you do fuck things up," Jack agreed because truly, Robby was a master at that, "but I would like you to consider for one fucking second that it might actually fuck things up less if you talked to people so they knew what was going on in that giant brain of yours and had the opportunity to tell you what they thought about it. And no, I will not fucking take my leg off, because I want the ability to move around relatively freely right now."

He could move on crutches, but not as easily, and the foldable wheelchair in the closet was definitely not an option right now.