Now who's the optimist?

[That one's less biting, more tired. Tess shakes her head.]

I really don't see what you're suggesting as an alternative, Joel. Even if it doesn't get worse, it's going to be in my blood, in my saliva, everything. And I'm supposed to just leave this nasty thing on my shoulder and wait for the day where I accidentally pass it to you? To anyone else around here? I don't fucking think so.