Oh really? What kinda stuff is so important that it can't be replaced, huh? Nothing's worth fucking yourself up for, unless you got so much greed in you that-

[ Belatedly, he notices that trembling voice and those unshed tears, and he finally shuts up- though it's less from dismay, and more due to confused disbelief. Hard-bitten, bloodstained outlaws are more his type of crowd, not fragile teens desperately trying to figure out their place in the world. ]

Holy shit, are you crying?