He'd managed to forget somehow, hadn't he. Being back in this toxic prejudice with no shelter, coming from his own identity crisis - now sidetracked, perhaps indefinitely. Is that what he's become? Resigned to death when his secret inevitably gets out? He'd planned to prove himself, dammit. He'd just gotten lost in making that happen.

He lowers his head again, but there's fire in his eyes. He'll give them a hell of a fight all right. Had before. Could do it again. "Then I will," he says, his mouth fixing into a hard frown. "I've fought them before."