Dirk can't stop staring. This is hardly like Bro as he knows him. It's almost unnatural to hear him so quiet. Some part of him wants to protest, to needle Bro into being his usual self. The words die in his head, and his throat feels too tight for him to be able to get them out. Even with the shades on, eye contact feels like too much, so he stares down at the table instead.

"Kind of late for that, isn't it?" he chokes out, before he can stop the words from coming out. He can't help but feel bitter. Bro wasn't a father, sure, but he was the one who raised Dirk and Dave. He was the one Dirk looked up to all his life, the one who he had wanted to be like, ever since he was little. For so long, he'd been certain Bro could do no wrong, so finding out he'd been lied to his whole life was a blow to everything constant in his life. He'd come to terms with it in his time away, but he's beginning to realize that he'll always feel bitter about it.

He pushes up his shades and rubs a hand over his eyes. He doesn't look at Bro. If he does, he thinks he won't be able to keep talking. "Jesus, I don't even know what to call you any more. What the hell am I supposed to do?"