A pause. Another long stretch of silence.

"...Yer right."

He patted Max again and slowly withdrew, rubbing his knuckles against his mustache - scratching away the fine grains of sand stuck there - before tucking his hand under his cheek.

"You should go." He swallowed (even that hurt, his throat dry and raw), and closed his eyes. "...An' come back for me, when yer ready."

Ready to demand the Gamemakers take them both... ready to kill him, when they refused.