Alex hugs him. He can't help it. He knows some grown ups don't like hugs, but he's never had somebody spell out to him so bluntly that they believe in him. And he wasn't aware of how much he needed to hear that until somebody said it to him. When was the last time his dad had ever told him he could do something, instead of telling him how he couldn't?

He sniffles, dangerously close to crying, which is super embarrassing because he's not a little kid anymore and he doesn't want Jim to think he's uncool. "My dad says with my condition I can't really do... most things I wanna do when I get older, actually. And I try and try and nothing's ever good enough because even when I work my hardest it's not as fast or as good as other kids. It's really never as good or fast as my dad at my age."

And then there was Jim, telling him that it was still worth it to try, telling him that you could screw up, end up in jail and still pull it together and go do great things. If he were older he might verbalize all the things that made him feel.

But he's not good at that, so he just clings onto Jim tightly.