[The smile falters immediately at the first line, and his face twists more and more the longer Cain prattles on, sitting there perfectly straight like a child back from his first day of grade school babbling about all the absolutely fucking useless things he'd accomplished that day.]
What do you mean you don't get back.
[He's right back to where he was before. His free hand balls up and slams into the spot next to him on the floor where he's sitting - privately, he immediately regrets it because now his hand is killing him, but moving right along.]
Of course there's a way. How long have you even been here fucking around that you haven't found something even slightly useful yet. Someone tell you, 'sorry, it's impossible,' and you just accept that and roll over and go back to wasting time??