"I hope it's a good one. And... someday someone writes it down in a history book or, or repeats it in an inspirational movie or something. Only I guess it would be more one of those tragedies that are like three hours long and everyone dies or wishes they'd died."

Pause, then he realises what he said somewhere in the midst of that nervous babbling and winces. "Um, sorry." You know, for reminding them about their almost certain imminent death. It's a little hard to get off that topic, though, and how do you make small talk with near-strangers at a moment like this when you've spent twenty-two years being abysmal at it before? He gnaws on his thumbnail while he wrestles with exactly that dilemma.