[He smiles at Crowley, struggling to push himself away from the wall and thus to his feet so he looks a little less like death warmed over.]

Perhaps that was a little dramatic of me to say it like that.

[But the fact remained, he was dying. He was close - as close as the Atroma would let him get at least. Talking about it was still hard, though. It wasn't something he felt comfortable admitting, even to someone who might be able to help him, and he'd been hiding it so long now that it seemed strange to just open up.]

Where I'm from - when I'm from - we don't talk about this. It would only make everyone sad because there is nothing they can do to stop what must happen.

[Which is why he's still smiling even as he says it. He can't be sad too, or they might worry.]