"I know they aren't. I'm just trying to get a perspective." Besides, the only other thing he can think about is the physical pain, and he's sure Peggy wants to hear about that about as much as Jason wants to reveal it. It's not even the pain that Jason would get rid of if he could eliminate one thing from his migraines, it's the weakness, the helplessness, that so undermine the pride that he tries to carry in spite of his constant martyrdom.

Jason feels a chill that has nothing to do with nausea settling in his stomach, something that originates not from the body but from the soul, as Peggy talks. He knows he might be in love with Swann, knows it on some level too deep for words because the feeling is as foreign to him as the genuine friendship he first felt with Peggy and Lorraine, like an invasive flush of hot blood in cold water.

But what Peggy's describing sounds different, like the flaws don't matter at all, like they're only mild dips as opposed to the wild highs and lows he and Swann have. He thinks maybe she only really, truly remembers the support she got from them, that their absence has made anger and disappointment fade rather than deepen like Jason feels for the dead and missing.

"Sacrifice is a pretty familiar word for all that. Duty. Obligation. I've never been happy taking care of someone. Maybe it's a Districter thing." He says that with a sort of dismissive sniff.