[ His heart goes out to her; the great, green eyes are wide, aglow with sympathy. He's a easy read, if you get past the inhuman features; the strange colors that don't match human reactions, the press of his lips in a brief purse. ]

It isn't easy. Last October, a couple of my 'fellow inmates' cornered me in a stairwell. Broke my fingers. Both of them graduated. Not a word of apology or regret...

I...

[ He shrugs; it still bothers him, to this day. Just like what Dean did over the engine room bothers him. But he takes it, for the job. Like he can be hurt and it's completely inconsequential. But he takes it. He has a job to do. ]

I suggest you find friends, first off. A good support structure is a must. As for something more... direct, I can probably help.