She made a mistake. [It's positively icy this time, and in a tone that brooks no further argument. He doesn't want to hear it. He definitely doesn't want to fight about it. He might go back to Morgana and ask again later what exactly it was that happened, because he does ultimately trust Dean -- even if it's not to be a random asshole -- but he's not going to sit and listen to whatever he currently has to say on the topic of people changing or not changing, or forgiveness, or mistakes.
And if part of the reason he tells himself he doesn't have to care what Dean thinks of Morgana is that it means he has to care less what Dean would think of him if he knew more... Then fine. So be it. That's how it should be.
His good mood is definitely badly soured when he stalks into the bathroom, but he recovers under the spray of the shower. He's never made an issue of it openly, but this has been one of his greatest areas of frustration and embarrassment. However else he's feeling, something that's been tight inside him for a long time greatly loosens with the realization that he can do basic frakking things again like climb into a tub and stand there without help. No crutches, no need to sit. Using Dean's shower already eliminated the need to deal with the public inmate ones, but still, he remembers the tension there, the worry that someone would do something while he was so helpless, and -- sorry, Dean, but it is Morgana's words he remembers: he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.
He stays much longer than he needs to, as before just because he can, but he's much more cheerful when he comes out again, towel wrapped around his hips, curls still sticking wetly to his forehead.] Frak, that's the first time I've gotten a look at myself in the mirror, too. [He rubs his shoulder, over the absent tattoo, nose wrinkling.] I don't know how I feel about it. I look sort of... naked.
[Spam]
And if part of the reason he tells himself he doesn't have to care what Dean thinks of Morgana is that it means he has to care less what Dean would think of him if he knew more... Then fine. So be it. That's how it should be.
His good mood is definitely badly soured when he stalks into the bathroom, but he recovers under the spray of the shower. He's never made an issue of it openly, but this has been one of his greatest areas of frustration and embarrassment. However else he's feeling, something that's been tight inside him for a long time greatly loosens with the realization that he can do basic frakking things again like climb into a tub and stand there without help. No crutches, no need to sit. Using Dean's shower already eliminated the need to deal with the public inmate ones, but still, he remembers the tension there, the worry that someone would do something while he was so helpless, and -- sorry, Dean, but it is Morgana's words he remembers: he doesn't have to be afraid anymore.
He stays much longer than he needs to, as before just because he can, but he's much more cheerful when he comes out again, towel wrapped around his hips, curls still sticking wetly to his forehead.] Frak, that's the first time I've gotten a look at myself in the mirror, too. [He rubs his shoulder, over the absent tattoo, nose wrinkling.] I don't know how I feel about it. I look sort of... naked.