He had no idea what she was trying to say, when she said she "couldn't," so he just chalked it up to him going on for too long, telling her unwanted stories and lecturing her when she didn't want to be lectured, and he'd told her he wouldn't. So, he let that be and moved on.
"No sweat," he waved off her lack of interest with the smallest of smiles. "Cop stories are boring to people who aren't cops. And I'm sure the last thing you want is to be told right from wrong when you're still scared shitless, right?" Fuck knows Brandon wouldn't have wanted that himself. "Maybe I'll tell you another time." But probably not.
Glancing away from her awkwardly, disguising it as doing a sweep of the area for infected or something, he nodded. "Yeah, I know. Definitely not what we had in mind, but you know, nowadays shit never goes the way you plan it to." Plans were pointless. Some movie said that once. "We'll find whoever's doing it, though." That much he could promise her.
He chuckled when she called O'Brien an old coot. "He's really damn unpredictable. Usually, you think he's gonna do one thing and he does the opposite." That was just how he operated, and sometimes it was annoying, but somehow, no one had killed the guy yet. "I won't let him lock you up though, alright?" He had no idea what this obligation to look after her was about, but it was what it was.
Brandon laughed at that. "Right?" Her tirade amused him, but he listened and laughed at her inflected voices, nodding along and shaking his head, and he couldn't stifle a laugh when she cursed. But when she tried to turn her head away, he shook his head no and gently grabbed her chin, turning her back. "It'll be worse if I don't clean it. Only a couple more seconds, promise." He tried to be a little gentler, but it wouldn't matter, as long as he was using alcohol on an open wound. "Sorry, sorry..." he muttered while he did it.
"Oh." He frowned and nodded his head. "Yeah. I get that." He probably should've said something else, but he sucked with words, no matter what he tried. "For what it's worth? You're not really alone there, either. Mine was a month ago and the only one who noticed was my big sister," he explained.
And that had sucked a lot, he wasn't kidding. "You know what? Fuck that. Wait here." He pointed at where she was standing. "I'll be like... a minute and a half. Maybe two."
He hurried back down the fire escape, and into the building, then back down the stairs, and into the music store. A quick look around told him that not much was still in one piece, but that didn't mean that no one could fix it. So... he scooped up a keyboard that had skittered across the floor and broken into two pieces in the corner and then hurried back up to the roof.
Holding it in the air when he set foot on the roof, he looked at her. "Was this the one? I know someone who can fix it."