She's right. He doesn't want to hurt her but - that inevitability always looms. How much she knows. How much she might learn from going through everything he's made, everything he's done. However much he's told her. It's too much. It's always too goddamn much.

The barrel of the gun points to the floor again. He rolls his shoulders, as if he didn't just casually threaten her with his own imminent suicide. But it got the reaction he needed.

"You don't have to worry about it," he says dully, mechanically. "It's fine. It'll all be fine. One day we'll look back at this and laugh."

Aren't you laughing, Max?

Isn't it funny?