"It wasn't like that." Oh, he's far too drunk to explain it properly to Charlie right now, but the implication of that he stayed on because he was afraid to leave the academic cocoon, that it was his choice, that he was coddled, sets his teeth on edge. "I just told you I didn't have a choice. It wasn't that kind of- " he lets out a short, frustrated sigh. More whiskey. Definitely more whiskey.

Ned sits forward and pours himself another glass. He's angry enough not to be careful with his information, now. "It wasn't fancy and I wasn't a rich kid. It was like a charity thing. Catholic, y'know. They were keeping me, 'cause my dad abandoned me there, never to be seen or heard from again, alright?"

It's not exactly how he imagined it, the first time he'd tell anyone about his dad. He drains the glass he'd just poured and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to reign in the anger. He feels like he could do anything right now. Punch Charlie in the face. Chuck his empty glass at the cameras. Just storm into the kitchen and start breaking everything he can get his hands on. There's a reason he doesn't talk about all this, doesn't let himself think about it. He probably wouldn't be, if it hadn't been for his conversation with Jesse, earlier. It was all on the surface already, just waiting for the tiniest tap to break the shell.