[And then after what feels like ages on Whale's end, he finally breaks the silence.]

Well. Your life sounds even worse than mine, and I wasn't entirely sure that was humanly possible for a while.

[shit shit, wrong train of thought, make things better. He coughs a bit, trying to put that behind him, obviously realizing that he fucked up, that was the wrong thing to say.]

What you just said...well, that is a lot to work through. And I can understand if you just wanted to get this off your chest and not talk about it to me again. But if you ever want to talk about any of it, just say the word, give me a call, whatever. We can talk about...all this.

[what was it that Ruby had said? Monster to monster. Of course, Will was hardly a monster in Whale's eyes: just a sick man with exceedingly shitty luck, luck that seemed to get worse and worse the more he found out about it.]

I'm sorry about everything. You're a good guy. [you shared booze with him and let him pet your dogs and told a funny story about dog nards when Whale had backed himself into a corner he didn't want to be in, Will was firmly a good guy in Whale's mind.] You don't deserve all that.

[this is why Whale isn't a psychiatrist.]