For a wild, awful moment Rupert wants to say show me, as if Jonas could (or even would) perform some great example of attempted suicide right here in his bed. But the moment passes and he realises that he doesn't need to see it to believe it - it happened today, in front of his very eyes.

"Like with the car," He says slowly. "You were unharmed. Even my terrible driving couldn't kill you."

It must be awful, feeling that desperate longing for death. Rupert loves danger, he feeds off it like an addict in search of an ever-increasing dizzying high, but he doesn't particularly want to die. There's still too much to experience, too much to enjoy. He chews his lip, sucking it between his teeth in thought, before asking:

"What would help? Don't say 'nothing'..."