[He heard the crack of what sounded like his X-Box, big fucking plastic monstrosity that it was, and just frowned more, listening to Jim and trying to figure out how to... not apologize, since he meant to get him to actually talk, but... relate or some shit. He wasn't exactly a fucking psychologist. When Jim finally seems to have calmed down, he says,] I'm not trying to make you say you're fine, man. That kind of shit is exactly what they always tell you not to hold in, y'know? BTW, I got three of every console there and there's a bat somewhere in my room if you wanna go Office Space on my shit.