Lucio couldn't deny it, Ansel was correct. It wasn't a job, it was a nasty scheme to get what he wanted and nothing more; prostituting himself had gotten him far enough in life, that much was true, but it wasn't a career, he simply told himself that much to sooth his self loathing a bit. It was just that bit of emotional self preservation that caused him to shake his head intently. "A . . . A hustle? No, it's a job, it's a profession; I work. I'm good at what I do and I don't do it for myself, I do it to achieve good marks and in turn my father offers me a monthly allowance. I get paid, indirectly so, but I still get paid," he insistent stubbornly as he glared across the table at Ansel, having abandoned his efforts to eat or drink anything as his appetite had fled him at the beginning of this little spat. He didn't wish to admit it, that he was dependent on his father, his former abuser, and his professors, his current abusers. He wished to believe that he was as independent as any other, freed from the chains of his past when that was simply not the case.<br/><br/>His expression had morphed from one of sheer agitation to something that was more akin to distress. He didn't wish for the argument to escalate, though he knew he could keep up a stubborn and agitated front for some time to come. "Perhaps I've simply told you what I think of myself, not what I believe you think," he admittedly softly as his body relaxed slightly from its formerly rigid position as his tone rapidly morphed. "I like to put on the front that I'm independent, supremely confident . . . I don't like it when people threaten that. When you pull out your wallet and wave around the cash that you earned for yourself it makes me feel, well, lesser than I often like to think I am."<br/><br/>The discomfort that the student felt as he suddenly allowed himself to be vulnerable was palpable. He could strut around a practical stranger completely in the nude without even batting an eye, but the only time he felt truly naked was when he exposed his thoughts, his emotions to another. Just like that evening in Ansel's apartment, when the man was partially fallen into a drunken stupor, Lucio felt completely stripped as he spoke these words. Despite the discomfort of speaking truth to a completely sober Ansel, he continued, "I don't like myself, Ansel. That much should be abundantly clear by this stage. I don't like the fact that I'm dependent on others, and always will be, because I'm simply not enough to support myself. Do you . . . Do you understand now, why I get all in a huff every time you pull out your wallet?" He ended the admission with a question, one he hoped that Ansel would answer in a positive manner. He also hoped that the other didn't get to sentimental about the fact that he'd exposed his thoughts, his feelings, he didn't wish for them to dwell on these words if at all possible as they made him violently uncomfortable.