He had to stop. Had to shove his hands into his pockets to keep himself from reaching into other pockets for his smokes again. Had to make more words.

Words were hard.

"Then resent it. At least we got this far. If you're gonna resent me, at least now I know why."

It hadn't really been rocket science, true. But that didn't make it any easier to swallow.

"Maybe if I ever get my shit together, there'll be less to resent. I'd like that, even. If now's too much. Or not enough. Or both. I can... I can live with a maybe, if that isn't too much, zoto."