Rage had littered Gibney's eyes at first, his body tense. Blood ran smoothly from his nose for a minute or two from the power of the punch, but healed quickly, thanks to his healing factor. It was fortunate for Damphyr that the feral was wounded, had he been in good health, he would have been to his feet and attacking in a breath. he was halfway up when the pale mutant began shrieking at him. It meant nothing at first, but then...
Then the weight of those words knocked him down a second time. A thin, quivering breath left his throat, guilt slamming into him, hard and heavy. His eyes did move to the timid green figure further up the beach, pain lighting his eyes. He'd hurt him. Kyle did not know the mutant at all, but Violet seemed to, he had no qualms with the man.
His mind immediately worked, trying to find a face to put with the description, but there were just too many. Too many fights were nothing more than a hazy memory of rage or pain or instinct. Half his fights, especially after the first few years, he had been tortured, taunted or otherwise upset before hand to make sure he would fight. He had no clear idea of who he had killed to hurt this individual. The weight of his emotions was all but crushing, and he could almost feel himself sinking deeper into the lose sand. He deserved his bad leg, he deserved the blow to the face, he deserved it all and so much more.
Jason's sudden shout caused him to jump, his heart leaping into his throat in surprise, slim body tensing. Confusion touched his features as Jason began to argue his defense... why would he do that? Kyle was guilty as the day was long. He had killed, many times, so many he had forgotten the faces. And then those words came to him. It's not your fault. He wanted to believe it, but could he? really? The man continued. No more owners. He kept saying things like that, then, just as moments before, would say others.
His head swam, confusion and guilt and a deep aching sadness gnawed at him. He shifted himself slowly up again, it a slow, careful and suddenly very difficult action. "Jus'..." he began, his brow knitted deeply with dark emotions. "Jus' get me outta 'ere." His voice was rough and uneasy, he slowly staring toward the exit again, his body stooped, his head down and shoulders hunched as if he were carrying a heavy weight. He did pause as he neared Mason, ready for another punch if it came. God knew he deserved it. "...Tell 'em... 'm sorry." He muttered roughly, limping away as quickly as he could then.