He leans into Fever like he'd lean against the base of a tree trunk, resting in its shade. Like he'd wrap himself in a quilt after a bad dream to shield himself a little from the dark.

"Of course I don't wanna do it." The words spill out of him, and he's too worn down to catch them before they do. "I don't wanna be on the whole other side of the island from Dahlia. I don't wanna be all the way out here if Hawk or Father Mulcahy or Major Houlihan or anybody else at Town Hall needs me, workin' so much I don't have time to check on any of you. I don't wanna be in charge of something so big 'cause somebody died again. I want Mr. Rambo to be here and -- " his voice splinters, " -- and I want everything to go back to how it was but it's not gonna, so what's the point, I-I wanna go home -- "

There's more he could say, but by then he's crying too hard to say it.