"Any last words for D, North, or Clair?" Because they sure as hell don't have last words for each other. There isn't much more to say. Still, it bears asking as he comes around to sit behind himself, prop him up so he's at least not staring at the great blankness of the Dome's sky when he goes. No one should go looking at nothing. He's done it before, not fun. One arm around his own waist, one on the syringe, he tugs York's sleeve up.