You're not a saint; you're my best friend. I'm sorry if that means maybe I have a reaction to you making the choice to give yourself up! Jesus... [He scrubs his face with his free hand.] I get that feelings aren't exactly our strong suit, but you've been gone a year and then some, and I still dream about it, y'know? And we didn't even finish watching the stupid fucking musical because I had a fucking panic attack seeing someone like you strut around on stage even if the costumes were from a thrift store. I-

[And he cuts himself off, trying to reorient himself. Takes a drink. Fuck.] Might as well talk things out now instead of burying it all and acting like it didn't happen.