Nursey liked Dex. He doesn’t think they’ll ever get along in a way that’s more than hockey and Chowder, not with this lightning cord of tension between them. Maybe they could if they tried, if they sat down and talked through it, but if they ever did try Nursey was sure it would blow up in their faces.
And it’s not just the Republican issue. They don’t have to talk politics. It’s the way that Dex just blew it off when Nursey brought up his privilege, like it was an insult, like it wasn’t as plain as the freckles on Dex’s face. Nursey knew that compared to Dex he had class privilege and a lot of it, but that wasn’t what he meant.
Dex has white privilege spades.
All that pale skin gets him a pass where Nursey’s never had one. He had to prove himself at Andover, over and over again. The school had great diversity, especially for a private school with it’s history but that didn’t stop some teachers’ double standards. Or the way that some of the guys believed that black and brown people couldn’t be good at hockey, that it was a white sport. And at Samwell, he still sometimes got asked if he was in the right place by security guards on campus, and Samwell was a good school, an open school, a welcoming school.
And now he knew well enough to know that some white (or white passing) person could shoot him just because he was big and dark and they would get away with it. There wasn’t a chance of getting justice on that issue, especially if the shooter was a cop.
So yeah, he resented the hell out of Dex’s privilege.
But he tried to be chill. He tried to just let it roll off his back. Seeing how Dex fit without ever having to try. No one ever looked at Dex on the ice and wondered loudly why he was there. And Nursey needed to chill; it wasn’t Dex’s fault.
But Dex never thought about it, never even had to think about it. And try as he might to be chill, it made Nursey’s blood boil.