[His smile now is almost sorrowful. He lets it be. He does not attempt to control it anymore, even though he should. Just lets himself soften into something that his other self never was, even in his most genuine moments.]

Now you have to decide. What you want to do and who you want to be.

Are you going to kill me, or not? Shit or get off the pot.

[If he dies, he thinks, at least he'll die surprised. At least he'll die smiling. That's something, right?]

[He stills at last, coming to a stop a few paces away. Something tenses up around his shoulders when he is backed away from and at the way Slevin looks at him, like a cornered animal. He sighs.]

C'mon, man. It's hot out here.