[ at the very least, lil would be the last person to accuse him of overreacting. to her, it all makes sense. to her, he's the victim. and maybe she's projecting -- she's not even sure anymore, and not the type to think too hard on that kind of thing -- but her sympathy is real, as real as her affection and the defensive instinct she feels.

her embrace is solid, strong. she strokes his back as she answers: ]

This ain't on you. Y'know that, right? Y'ain't done nothin' wrong. Y'been good t'that sonnuva bitch, I know y'have, and if he's got trouble seein' that through that goddamn stupid hood of his, that ain't 'cause of you.

[ a beat, like she isn't sure she should say this next thing -- but he just seems so unhappy, so hurt. ]

Anyway, there ain't nobody sayin' he won't come t'his senses.