I'm not ready to die, James.

Well, you're not going to die out here, bro.

Another two inches? Shrapnel zings by; slices my throat. I'll bleed out like a pig in the sand; nobody'll give a shit. I mean my parents? They'll care, but they don't count, man. Who else? I don't even have a son.

Well, you're gonna have plenty of time for that, amigo.

No, man. I'm done. I want a son. I want a little boy, Will. I mean, how do you do it, you know? Take the risk?

I don't know. I guess I don't think about it.

But you realize every time you suit up, every time we go out, it's life or death. You roll the dice, and you deal with it. You recognize that don't you?

Yeah... Yeah, I do. But I don't know why. [sighs] I don't know, J.T. You know why I'm that way?

No, I don't.