It's not a flinch. It's not and that's the truth and he'll swear it to his last fucking breath. But when Sarah mentions people who love him, Cook looks away sharply. His lips press together, rub together to stop himself from speaking too soon.

People who love him. What bullshit. But he doesn't want the fucking pity parade and there's a chance, with the way Sarah's talking right now, he just might get it if he's not careful. Not that Cook's ever been that careful.

"I already am," Cook says, but it's hard to get the words out. They feel false, rough, awkward in his mouth, even though in his head and his heart he can feel some weight of truth to them. Paddy, Keith, Naomi, JJ. They loved him, probably, maybe, some of the time, but love is such a big fucking word that Cook can't place it on them. The point is, they're home. They're not here. Freddie and Effy are here, but fuck knows what that means for Cook on any given day. The dust hasn't settled yet.

"It's my life," he says, turning his gaze back to Sarah, hardened now and ready for what he's going to say. "My choice. Don't presume to take ownership and responsibility for what's not yours."