I get hit.
It doesn't hurt – I'm used to it. Most times there's hardly even a mark.
Take last night. There was some seriously weird shit going on. This guy - Dean - had a fight with... well, some thing. It wasn't deliberate – and I hurt him too when he came flying at me.
His brother (Sam I think) patched him up and helped him limp out this morning.
But neither even gave me a look back. It's hurtful, you know?
Still, as a wall I can't complain.
You should see the crap that the floor had to deal with.