If he knew she was thinking him naive, he'd be laughing his ass off right now. Instead, he's feeling kind of bad that someone her age is already this cynical. Well, he had been, too, but there were different reasons for that.

"Sometimes that lie is all that gets you through the shit." His voice is wry, because how many times had he clung to that, too? But he holds up his bandaged hands to look at them a moment. He gives a quiet hum. "I don't think I've ever really cared if it was building character or not, I guess. I was usually just pathetically grateful to still be alive. And trying to figure out how to not do that again, whatever it was. Sitting there asking myself 'now what?' seemed like a better coping method than getting lost in what was already done. Otherwise, I might never move."

But she's got a point about the topic, since this really hadn't been his intention to get into when he sat down here. He slides his mug across and clinks it against hers with a chuckle, lips quirking. "I think that usually means we've either had too much to drink already, or nowhere near enough."