His stress was high, causing him to lash out and react in the only way he could to release that energy the erupted deep inside. He picked up a piece of broken wood that lay nearby, tossing it, and it bouncing off another piece of broken architecture. He spoke nothing, closing his eyes once more as she spoke. Temper his emotions. That is what Hephaestus had spoken of, and even what his therapist had been working on. As his mother had suspected, the success of his film had pushed his ego, now was the aftermath, as with many PTSD victims--it forced his reactions to be far more hysterical.
He breathed in heavily, exhaling again. "I heard what you said mother," he spoke, pushing his voice to a calmer tone. "I know what you meant, I only," he sighed again, still attempting to calm himself. "I speak irrationally." Quite simply she'd broken his heart that night.