"Who dream and dream well," Wesley added. Wesley himself had extra issue with the idea of feeling vulnerable. Now, when he did sleep, every little noise woke him up, making him reach for the shotgun he now kept underneath his bed. He wasn't sure if he kept it there because he expected something to happen or if it just made him feel a little better. He actually tried to not think on it too much. If he did, he'd realize that a little too much of his sanity had likely already slipped away.
It was nice that someone worried over him. He didn't say it out loud, but the slight smile on his face gave him away. His former friends had been so wrapped up in themselves to realize how troubled he had been the past year, and then they shunned him when they learned what was bothering him and what he had tried to do about it. That had been worse than feeling the knife at his throat. He tried to not think about it now, though. "I suppose it would be rude," Wesley commented as they walked. He then paused, tilting his head to one side while listening. He thought he had heard something from one of the nearby alleys.