I don't think this has to come with mutual understanding, but... Thank you. It's still very weird that you're trying to be gentle, and might be scaring me more than the imminent death.

[Well, less imminent now. They're starting to die and the vines shrivel and pierce the skin so they can be removed, leaving little welts of blood but little else. There's a lot to go.]

We're going to be at this all day until we're crying into each others' shoulders and wishing we were dead. There's torture to this no matter where you look.

[This touchy feely nonsense with Beau was getting suffocating. He had to pause for a brief bitching intermission.]