He'd been drifting, a little. Dazed or exhausted or something- not present. That question though has him snapping to with a blink. With the lowest, rawest, most broken little laugh that he couldn't bite back. Sure. Ask him to put a bullet in you.

That's all anyone ever fucking DOES lately. Ask him to put a bullet in them, ask him to make it end. He's fucking tired of it.

But since when can he tell Malcolm no? It's- it's hilarious in that it's not hilarious. It's awful. But he can't- hands shaking, jaw locked up and he's still laughing.