[But Jesse stops, brow knitting angrily.] And I don't? And he didn't?? No-- he didn't even get a chance to. He was in that coma practically since the day he got here.

[Even at the depths of his apathy, Jesse quietly went to visit Mr. White pretty much every day. He didn't always talk, he sometimes didn't do anything but sit. He almost never touched him, and some days he didn't even go near the guy. But he went every day. Because maybe it would mean something, maybe it would make a difference.

Except, hey, apparently not.]

I've been working my ass off, here, and now I'm still in this shithole and he's-- I mean, he's-- [He looks to the blank door again, distressed.] He's just--

[Dead. Say dead. He inhales sharply, breath shaking a little as he lets it out, and reaches anxiously for his cigarettes, still staring at the door.]