Yeah, 'cause all they gotta do is say they're sorry, right? Oh, they're real sorry. Are you deaf, old man? I asked you a question -- what am I supposed to do? 'Cause apparently that ain't good enough for me. Work, work, you keep saying -- work how? Doing what?

What're my magic words supposed to be? ["Sorry," he's said, to Gale himself, even, or what he thought was Gale, way back in October. And he's even sorrier now that he knows it was all completely for nothing. But that's not enough, apparently, for the Admiral, and underneath the anger he's pretty sure he knows why; it's what's keeping him, for all his insistence that he's working things through, as stuck as he is.

Because "sorry" isn't the same as "I'll never do it again," and he already knows -- Claire and Richie proved to him -- that he would. That he will. That he's no different from Arya, on that one. That the only work he's actually done is trying to make her better, not himself.

He presses on before the Doctor can answer, fists clenching at his sides, the remains of his barely-smoked cigarette falling to the floor.]

Did you ever think that maybe I'm not gonna be any better than this?