People always say that. They always ask it, too. What would they want? How would they want you to feel? Roy doesn't think it fucking matters what they would want. Keeley wouldn't want to think of him being a sad fucking sack moping around this city over her, but he is anyway, because it's what he wants. At least for now.

"Fuck that," he says, almost a growl. "If you want t'be sad, you should be fuckin' sad. There's no rules for this shit."