"It was supposed to be me." It's condemning, an admission of guilt. The first time he's admitted to being guilty of anything around Tony... well, pretty much ever. "Should've been me."

Because it's always been him destined to bite it sooner than later, they all knew that - the things he did, the people he knew, the mouth he had, it's pretty much always been an inevitability that Jack Dawes is going to get himself killed, and it's probably going to hurt. But it's always supposed to have been him first. Sofia would grieve - she'd be the only one - but she'd raise their daughter and probably end up finding some guy like Tony, if not actually Tony, who would take care of her like he never could. She'd be happy, and she'd remember him, and that was more than he deserved anyway.

This is all wrong. Somebody went and fucked up the script, and now both he and Tony are scrambling to fit it back together.

"We were getting in the car. Some guy - I don't know who he was, never saw him before - got close enough to pull a gun on us and started shooting. Hit me in the shoulder. I hit the gas, but she was already..."

Maybe if the guy had been less of a bad fucking shot, they would've made it out alright. He doesn't outline the rest right now because it seems unnecessary - that he crashed the car and woke up in the hospital, how he walked the entire way back and found the guy and squeezed down on his throat until his eyes popped, and how tempted he is to just keep going.

But Sofia wouldn't want that, and so he's here instead, spilling his soul on the couch of a man who hates him.

"I quit the club. I quit all of it. Nobody's coming after the baby. She doesn't even have my last name."