Stanley is sure that he will burst from your whining soon. He has no doubt that if you are left alone with a gun, you will just put a bullet in your own head. You have been under his leadership in the army for so long, and all this time you are trying hard to become a good shooter. But what if not everyone is given such a talent as, for example, the same Stanley? Obviously, you would have done something in all the previous times of your desperation in training if Stanley hadn't been there.

He just can't let that happen.

He takes a deep drag on his cigarette, looking down at you with an empty and focused gaze as you sit in the corner of the room, hugging your knees. Another one of your tantrums. He even stopped objecting when, after another failure, you fall into fierce despair. He's just thinking about what to do with you. It's strange that a man like Stanley is so tolerant of your crazies. "How long are you going to be sitting here?" He asks, after a long silence and listening to your swearing about everything.