Miniver stretches out beside Skwisgaar and glances to him.
"Fucken hate you into fucken... what the hell's that afterlife shit you Viking fucken... that shit?"
He scoots down and against Skwisgaar, wrapping one arm behind the Swede and draping one leg over his hip. For now, he's almost relaxed.
"Look, man... I ain't going anywhere. Maybe I think of myself as shit, but I know well enough that if I do anything, there's people who'll get it worse. Pickles needs someone to look after him no matter what he says, Soren and Cass need someone to ruin them gradually over the course of many years and traumatize them until they both grow up to be who they are now -- those sort of spazzed as fuck little guys... and Toki... and you..."
He pauses, and then, "You're the most difficult sonofabitch to ever walk the earth, but you need a fucken babysitter too, and if it ain't a babysitter you need, someday when you're 112 and in a nursing home, you'll thank me for being the biggest pain in your ass you ever met. You'll look over to the other wheelchair and do that toothless lisp and say... You stupid douchebag! You tye-dyed my room 59 years ago! I'm gonna get you for that! Go fuck yourself!"