"A guy who I thought was one of my closest friends here tells me I should've died and almost beats the shit outta me, and you wonder what's gotten into me? You pick up your guns and you tell me point blank that you're gonna go shoot him, and you wonder what's gotten into me? Honey--"

Too many thoughts are crowding his head and he can't get them out fast enough without tripping over his words and saying something wrong. He's starting to get frustrated, with himself, with Voodoo, with this whole fucking situation.

He shakes his head, picks up his plate, and stabs at some fried vegetables, not looking at her.

"I'm only tryin' to understand something. And I don't even know what I'm supposed to ask or what I'm supposed to say."