[ That shuts up Irving quick, the slow horror of what and how much he'd just said dawning over his expression with the sudden force of a slamming door. He'd meant what he said, of course, felt sincere in his offer, and even just the notion, of helping Hickey rehabilitate his soul through the overcoming of some personal demons -- it feels a bit like Irving's responsibility, as long as they're both here, to at least try -- but that just now had been... an unprecedented level of frank and emotional honesty, particularly for Irving.

(If anything, emotional honesty makes John Irving extremely uncomfortable.)

He snatches his hands back quickly, rearranges his expression to look impatient and cold. ]

Only once. In a moment of weakness. [ He clears his throat. ] So you see, it is not that I'm... indifferent, to what weight of some of your burdens must be causing you.