‘Burned out’ was definitely a good way of putting it - Rory was rather burned out on the whole situation too. As usual, his first instinct was to suppress his feelings and not talk about it, but he was pretty sure that, with Eisen, that solution (or rather non-solution) wasn’t going to fly. Damned if he wasn’t at least going to make an attempt to act like nothing was wrong, though, so he smiled as he rolled into Eisen’s house and settled by the couch.
“So you did, so you did,” Rory answered. “But I know you and sleep.” He tapped at his right temple with his index finger. “Where that’s concerned, you can be unpredictable. And everyone had a pretty late night last night. I, as you know, have the stamina of an old man, so I didn’t last much past midnight. Were you out late?”
Rory often joked that he was ‘getting older’ as a way to cover from the fatigue that was a natural part of his disease. In his his darker moments, thought, he often wondered how true it was. As soon as he’d learned about his illness he’d done as much reading as he could, and was disheartened to find that the median age of death for BMD patients began in the early 40s. It saddened him to think that he’d already lived half his life, but of course it was a sentiment that he never, ever discussed with anyone. The fact that he was in a wheelchair all the time already provided more pity than he could handle.