He doesn't shrug the sentiment off this time, but that doesn't mean he knows how to respond properly, either. Instead, he nods and stares at the bottle in his hands, his mind going unbidden to how many times he sat exactly like this with Sam, lounging around on his couch and knocking back beers.

It seems unfair, somehow, to lose the same man twice, but Nate's used to things not being fair. Nothing ever is, so why should this be any different? It's a fact he accepted a long time ago when he was still a kid. "Thanks," he says, because he doesn't really know what else you're supposed to say when somebody offers you that kind of commiseration. "Trust me, you can do better than a brother like me though."

He's been a shitty brother, everything else aside. He'd left Sam when he fell the first time, when he should have stayed. He'd made the biggest mistake of his life in assuming Sam was dead and following Rafe away from that prison. He doesn't mention that though, because it'll only open up the kind of pity party that Nate's already tired of having. Instead, he flashes Marcus a quick grin, weak though it is. "Don't think they let priests have thieves for brothers, do they?"