I weigh for a moment the possibility of dragging him out. Because I don't doubt that he'd set off the detonators. I don't doubt that he'd bring the entire world crashing down until it crumbles at our feet, no more than a pile of rubble. And, God be damned, the only thing right now that would leave things worse than as they are, with him as enraged as he's ever been, is if somehow he was physically hurt in the process. I've lost him once.

I know I wouldn't survive if I lost him again.

The only thing to do is turn my back on him. If he wants a clear shot, hell, there's nothing clearer than the one he has now of the back of my neck, the most vulnerable juncture of the suit. I make no effort to hide.