[Isaac listens to Peter speak, and he can feel the rustle of fabric, the small burst of air from his hand, tracing over a shape in the dark. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if he can say anything. Nobody has tried to look deep enough to figure him out before. Nobody sees him as a puzzle, nobody really pays him much mind at all past how useful he can be in any given situation.

And Isaac doesn't really mind that. He enjoys his own usefulness, enjoys that people don't try to pry into it, and- maybe on some level, doesn't understand the idea of someone caring about him enough to want to.

Whatever happened to him, happened. The last time was almost a year ago, now. He should be over it. He is over it.]

You don't have to tiptoe around me, [he finally murmurs, glancing back toward Peter, seeing his hand hovering in midair.] I don't mean to be a mystery, I don't really care about secrets. You can ask what you want.

[With that being said, Isaac shrugs again, forcing the nonchalance as he pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, resting his chin down on top. Everyone has shit that happened to them- he's no different. And as determined as Isaac is to not let his own history affect him, he knows that all he can do is acknowledge it, admit what happened, and leave it behind him. He has to.]

My father locked me in the basement freezer when he was unhappy with me.

[A pause, and then Isaac frowns, picking at the hem of his pajamas. His explanation is short, succinct, and his tone is far more casual than it probably should be, considering that he's back to not looking at Peter, as if worried that he'll be judged for it.]

He was unhappy a lot.