[She might be surprised to find that he could be, had been self-sacrificing. He just did it selfishly. He did it for the rare person or two that he loved. Those rare few that crawled in under his skin, made it through the damaged armor and burrowed into the charred remains of his heart. He still had a pulse, after all, so that organ was still there. His was a case of 'The lady doth protest too much, methinks'.

That or 'once bitten, twice shy'. He'd been an idealist. He'd been in love. And he'd been broken over it. Damon wasn't stupid, no matter how much he tried to play that he was sometimes. He learned quickly. Love hurt. Love made you vulnerable and weak. Love wasn't for him.

She aimed her little dig at him and he smiled at her, another wink floating her way.]

Because I'm a shallow narcissist and I like talking about myself. Go on, ask me about my daddy issues. Mommy ones, too. Trust me, Peach, I could talk about myself for hours.