The hit to the ribs had caused Brian to flip over onto his back and he let his head fall back against the concrete floor of the workshop once he heard Scott's voice. The chair was tangled amongst his feet now, but he sat still and listened to what Scott had to say. Honestly, he hadn't seen things going this way, but he also hadn't planned on letting his mouth fly open like it had. His chest rose and fell again with a heavy sigh and he frowned hard. He thought of his father, then of Dr. Hank. His mother's eyes flashed through his thoughts. They looked like Betsy's, didn't they? Christ. He felt tears welling up in his own blue eyes and he clenched his jaw. They were right, of course. Whether they were or were not 'fucking peasants'. He didn't see them as such and had never meant to say anything like that to his colleagues - his friends. He admired both of these men, and his brash, self-centered behavior had stricken again. He opened his mouth and spoke to the ceiling, "You're both right."
Ronan's eyes flicked to Scott when the beams shot out of his eyes. He hadn't expected him to strike the boy like he had. Ronan approved. He watched as Brian finally realized how much of an asshole he'd been. Thank God. He stood by Brian's feet as he looked down at him. "And yer sorry?"
Brian nodded and gave a semi-reluctant "Yes." He wasn't reluctant to be sorry. He was reluctant to admit it to Ronan and answer to him like the man was in charge. But Brian wasn't in charge of the situation, and he knew that now. He wasn't going to struggle for it. And they were, after all, right.
"And you're going to get some help?" Scott half-asked, half-demanded. "You need to speak with Emma or the Professor and get your head cleared up before anything worse happens." Last time Brian hadn't gone to anyone after his meltdown - Scott had just kicked his ass back in line. Perhaps it hadn't been the best way of going about things...
"I know. I will," Brian promised, solemnly. He began untangling his feet from the office chair and he moved to his side, then up so he was resting his arms on one knee. His eyes avoided both of theirs. "I'm sorry for what I said," he told them, and finally looked to Scott. The older man's jaw was still clenched tight, but his face looked a bit softer than before. He hadn't looked over at Ronan yet, who had been playing the part of snarling dog. He wasn't risking another hook to the jaw.
The Irishman sighed before he reached down to offer Brian a hand. "Yer sorry in general, now up ye get."
Brian glanced at Ronan's hand and debated taking it. Brian didn't need help standing - he could fly, for cripe's sake. But it was symbolic of something much deeper than a man helping another man to his feet. It meant they had an accord. And it meant he was agreeing to seek help. He had, so far as words were concerned. Now it was time to show it. He needed help. His hand raised and clasped Mars' and he used it to bring himself back to his feet. He ignored Ronan's words, for the most part, however. He stood beside the inventor now, hands on hips, looking as though he wasn't sure what to do with himself.
Scott had crossed his arms at some point after his attack on Britannic and now he stared across at the calmed Mars and the sheepish Brit with a sense of accomplishment. "You should get back to the lab now, I guess. Was there anything else to be said here?" Scott was asking both the other men.
Brian shook his head 'no' after having nodded in agreement that he ought to get back to his post. "I'll talk to Emma in the morning." Brian headed for the exit and glanced back once at Ronan with an expression that bordered on thankfulness. Of course, he wouldn't say anything of the like.
"Good," Scott said. He moved his body away from the door so that when Brian left, he wasn't blocking the way.
Ronan gave Brian a nod when he caught the glance. He hoped the boy did everything he said he would. And if he didn't...well. From the look on Britannic's face, there wouldn't be any problem.