[ Berserker bristles. His temper is shorter than ever; Waver's words only grate against his frayed nerves. He bares his teeth, his tail stiff and straight, his wings spreading out a little bit. ]

Don't assume you know anything, Waver. Do you think I wanted to die? That I knew that's what would happen? You show up here...For what? To make me feel worse about what happened?

[ Every word has an edge sharp enough to cut, his rage threatening to boil over. It's not just rage, either -- anguish and disappointment mix with it to make it even more painful. ]