You didn't ask for us. We weren't part of the story. But you didn't have the power to send us away, either.

[He's not sure what a better chance looks like. Wouldn't that alter his story, change history? He died in a Freelancer facility with someone he thought he hated, a man who stopped being a man and more of a puppet, his friends on the run--

Carolina said they were good. That they were happy. Wash is proud of them. Thinks he'd be proud, too. If he gets a...a better ending, what does that change? What if he fucks that up, that chance that things work out for them all in the end?

But he misses them like crazy, too. Never got to see Tucker again before the end. Fuck, it's not like he hated the Reds, either. Not more than he hated anyone else, anyway.]

Anger's real easy. I know it. And sometimes you regret the stupid shit you say in anger because it's...so easy to let words get away from you.

You're kind of a piece of shit, y'know. For doing this. But, I mean, so am I. I've gone in circles, but I did it knowingly every time, so it's not like it's the same. But still. [He shrugs.] Do you think staying here is really the answer, though? The...fiction, the threads of some other planet's story all cobbled together, life on these wacky islands, you think it's a better chance?

I mean, better chance while I'm alive rather than none when I'm dead, but I just mean. More generally.