A few hour hours of walking under the scorching sun and Quiz dropped to the ground again. 'Oh, what's the use anymore?" He had been wanting to say those words out loud for the longest time. They just come out of his mouth in a burst of frustration and were left hanging in the air as Tolstoy stared up at him. He half-heartedly expected Tolstoy to agree with him and share his despair. Why wouldn't he?Quiz thought. They had been walking around the God-forsaken desert with no food, no water, and no real hope of getting away from the Sliders, who had been chasing them and forced them to run out into the desert ill prepared. Why wouldn't Quiz just agree with him and let Quiz suffer in his own depression and misery. It was true, there was no hope left for either of them. The very best thing, the most honorable thing, that Tolstoy could have done for Quiz would have been to not say anything and continue on alone, leaving Quiz out there by himself to die of his own failure. But Tolstoy would do no such thing. No, in fact, he did the worst possible thing that Quiz had hoped he wouldn't: Tolstoy tried to cheer Quiz up, the fucker.