Once more, when Ginsberg starts talking about his dad, Ned tenses slightly. This time, though, it isn't a passing mention. He just keeps going, and Ned feels a completely irrational knot of anger tightening in his stomach. At the same time that he realizes it is entirely unwarranted, he doesn't know how to loosen it, to dispel it.

"I don't know..." Ned begins, and his voice is lighter than before. It's a false lightness, though. Perhaps not an obvious enough one for Ginsberg to pick up on, since he hasn't really heard Ned use it before. He's the sort of guy who gets quietly angry, whose irritation gets buried under layers of passive-aggression and meaningful shrugs and a complete inability to vent it in any sort of healthy way. "That doesn't sound all that bad to me. He probably wants you to find someone because he thinks it will make you happy."