"You know I wasn't actually--I was trying to--listen, don't make me start singing, I will do it."

"Oh no, not the singing."

"Seriously, though, you've got the plan, right?"

"I've got the plan. We've spent the past six months practicing the plan, we're not going to have any sudden revelations tonight, let's just enjoy it."

"I guess I just--I know every time I ask you about how you're feeling you're just, concerned, or, or okay--come on, man, just tell me what's going on, this is it, please just tell me--how are you? Because I--I care about you."

Toby considers this for a moment.

"I'm feeling worried," he decides, because he is worrying about them. Well, about Tommy, mostly. "If we both die, no one will know what happened in here, just that we died. I figure I've done enough, we had some laughs. All good things must come to an end eventually, right? It's fine. We knew it was coming. But I don't want it to all--I did a lot, and if we both die, it would all have been for nothing. So."

Nod. "Then let's stay alive," Tommy says, as though it's that easy. "Tomorrow's just--the last thing we have to overcome. We've overcame stuff before, we can--we can be optimistic. It's just the last bump in the road and then we'll be okay. I know we've been thinking all about the idea that, that we might die, and yeah, probably, we might, but you know what? We might die all the time. When we're out, every time we get in a car or cross the road, there's a statistical chance we might die, but we don't think about it all the time because it's scary to think about. So let's just think--we're going to be okay."

"D'you want to live together? When we're out?"

He's not deluding himself; he's well aware that it's not likely. But if it's going to be their last day alive, they deserve a little wishful thinking.

"That'd be--that'd be nice. You know, we've had a really good time. I know I haven't always been the best, but-- thank you for sticking with me."

"You've been alright!"

"Thank you, man. For everything."

"Like I said. It's alright."

"...I'm still nervous. You don't--what do you want to talk about, do you not have any things that you need to go over, that you feel like--you're being pretty relaxed."

"I'm not relaxed, I'm just... I mean, it's not tonight, right? Might as well take the hours while we have them, if you know what I mean."

"I guess." Tommy shifts his weight back and forth as he sorts and replaces the potions again. "And you're sure you've got everything?"

"Positive."

Tommy puts the potions back, takes out his water bottle, looks at it. The sharpie drawings are long-faded, pale gray ghosts on the hard plastic. "Remember this?"

"I mean, it was mine, so."

"Weeeeeeell. I don't know if I'd say that."

"No, wait, I was being all--all serious and inspirational."

"Were you."

"I was!!!!"

"Uh-huh. Okay, hit me."

His fingers trace the outline of an orca. "Remember--remember Wilbur? The old Wilbur, I mean. Not--in here."

"...Yeah?"