I don't know how to help you. I'm pretty sure Clint dying was my fault. It's what people kept saying, or else implying, which is the same thing but without the balls to spit it out. And now all I've got is waiting and hoping I can fix it somehow down the line, but I can't help feeling like there's not going to be anything.

[He falls quiet a sec. He never intends to blurt this stuff out, but it keeps happening like clockwork before he can stop himself.]

[He clears his throat.]

What do you mean, whose body you're in?