[It's the admission Ford's been waiting for, but there's nothing satisfying about it -- just the same low-boiling anger and sense of helplessness at not knowing where to start or what to stop. He's done with this, wasted enough time on codes and games that bring him nowhere closer to what he needs to know. When he finally moves to switch the communicator output he's embarrassed to realize his hand is shaking with the same barely-suppressed resentment that laces every word.]
I'll die before I do a thing to make this easier for you, Bill. This stops here.
voice;
I'll die before I do a thing to make this easier for you, Bill. This stops here.