(shrugs, exhausted)

- You were merely wishing for an end of pain. Your own pain. It is the most human wish there is.

- I didn’t mean it.

- You did, but you also did not.

(Conor looks up at the big face in front of him.)

- How can both be true?

- How can a prince be a murderer and a saviour? How can an apothecary be evil-tempered but right-thinking? How can invisible men make themselves more lonely by being seen?

(shrugs, exhausted)

- I don’t know. Your stories never made any sense to me.

- Because humans are complicated beasts. You believe comforting lies while knowing full well the painful truths that make those lies necessary. It is a wonder you can survive at all.

(Conor isn’t sure he buys this, as much as he might want to.)

In the end, Conor, it is not important what you think, it is only important what you do.

(Long beat as Conor considers this.)

- So what do I do?

- What you did just now. You speak the truth.

- That’s all?

- You think it’s easy? You were willing to die rather than speak it.

- Because what I thought was so wrong

- It was not wrong. It was only a thought. One among millions.

(Conor takes a long breath, he’s exhausted. In fact, he’s fighting to keep his eyes open.)

- I’m so tired. So tired of all of this.

- Then sleep. There’s time.