[The Black Box has pulled something inside him thin, ready to snap. He can't let it go, not this time. He's never been any good at quitting while he was ahead.]

I think you'll act like it. I think you'll try, because that's what you're supposed to be, how you're supposed to be. But is it? Is it really? Can you look me in the face and tell me that not a single one of the deaths you saw in there mattered, not even slightly?

[It's almost a real question, if the slight, helpless edge to his voice is anything to go by. If there's anything to hold on to, anything at all, he's determined to drag it out inch by inch.]