[Whatever albatross Nick is carrying, it's substantial enough that he can allude to it comfortably while not disclosing it at all. The delivery is so dry and pragmatic Nate might have said the same thing himself - and has, in the past - about specific subjects he never intended to broach.]

Preaching to the choir, Father Nick.

[Nate says with a sympathetic twist of his mouth. Saying that it is "difficult" to reach out is a vast understatement; it took about a year for Nate and Lance to share a frank, candid conversation about themselves, and even then that's pushing it. Circumstances changed priorities.

The loss of Sam stained Nate for a long, long time. Made it hard to extend a hand, or to believe that someone would do the same without retracting it in the same breath.]

It's not exactly easy to...trust. Puts you out there to get burned. [When you do, it's all the more reason not to trust again. Once bitten, twice shy.] But, uh- I hear confession's nice.

[It might be one of the few things he misses about being inundated with Catholicism as a child: impartial, anonymous listening.]

Now I'm...not a priest, but. Sometimes just saying crap out loud by yourself helps.