[He makes a face, imagining having his own 'performance' back there, all of it, recited back to him. He's pretty sure he knows what the breakdown would be and, shit, the idea of hearing it aloud hurts just thinking about it.]

No, god. Well- fuck, maybe. I don't know. I just want to know why. And if it was me - us, whatever - at least that's something we can change. Something we can do. Otherwise it's just, 'oh well, too bad all those people are probably dead, better make sure some freak accident doesn't come and fuck it all up again!'

[He takes another drink, grimaces - still doesn't like wine - then plops it heavily on the table close enough to the other guy that Hank will have to stretch to get at it.]

That's not asking a lot, right? I can't be the only one here who wants that.