[Robert listens silently, staring at his hands the whole time. There's only the barest of flinches when Don says "monster" - it is strange, to think that at some point that's what he would be, to Don - and a slow, soft intake of breath.

Fourteen. At fourteen, Don killed someone... much like himself around that age, didn't he? A drug addict.

His fingers tremble a little, and he knits them to steady them.]

A... c-consequence of... of what your life was. What it... had to be.

[If you'd grown up with me you never would have had to -

... But would Don really be Don anymore if he had -]

It is... all a c-continuum, I suppose. Easy to... progress from one point to the next. Perhaps... perhaps too easy. [He looks at himself again.] It... only t-took me a year.

But, then again, I... suppose this is d-different, in some ways. Some... important ways.