He's said the wrong thing. But it's out there, and they're sitting there in the quiet of the car. They haven't gone anywhere. Proko's not trapped.

Jiang looks at him softly. He pushes a hand gently into Proko's hair.

"You heard me," he says, tender in the words. "It's not a make it or break it, P. I...I never have to, if you don't want. But I'd like to. Jesus, Illya, you're just so..."