Eyes still open, he allows the possibility to unfold: Salamanca descending on them, moving with that quickness he's sometimes possessed of. His stare black as he cuts into her. Rust forced to watch, Salamanca primed to his least reaction. As ever.

A breath sighs out. He can't muster the energy to articulate it, if Shaw doesn't know. He suspects she does.

“Feels like I've been sleepwalking, past few days. Trespassing on, on someone else's nightmare.” He shifts his head, burrowing into the jacket. At long last his eyes close. “You never told me to kill myself. Why not?” His voice has started to drift, but he asks with a curiosity so open, so close to the surface it verges on childish.