It doesn't make any of the guys he fought with, or against, monsters. It also does. He can't think of monsters as a binary thing after seeing no-man's-land. He also can't think of a way that that word doesn't apply to someone who's walked over so many bodies to get home. But he's aware of who he lives with, and of his own cognitive dissonance when it comes to applying that argument. He swallows it and feels it pass, all spines and teeth, past his heart and through his chest. Dispersing, while his lungs work as if the enemy has released poison gas.

"...I have to remind myself. Sometimes. That he ain't still doin' it."

'Sometimes' here means at least once a day when he wakes up, and usually more. He knows Arthur has noticed, but there's a difference between him noticing and Charlie telling him. Given a choice of the two, he'd rather tell him. Know that he knows and that it was by Charlie's choice.

"In New York it weren't as hard. I had it mastered." Mostly. Partly. Enough that some days he was able to pretend it was a bad dream. Here- well, here, if John hadn't been present, he would have full-on attacked Nat last month. It's a fearful backslide.