[He breathes in and then sighs out. He remembers their talk in Paris; he's been fighting his urge to chuck it all since even before then. Maybe that's what's changed now. Maybe he just wants to stop fighting. He doesn't know if he has the energy for one last push before he gives up altogether.]

I don't know if I can. [And though he doesn't mean to project it, the thought slips out anyway:] Not for him.