"I goddamn know!" He hollers, or tries to. His voice goes weird in the middle, and he ducks his head afterward, embarrassed and exhausted. "The hell else d'you want?" He tries to open his eyes and glare at her, but that feels like crap, and his head's spinning. He tries to turn away from her and curl up again. There's an overwhelming desire to be small, smaller, unnoticeable, something that won't be blamed for its idiocy on his own goddamn death bed.