“Better than you?” Steven teases with a lighthearted laugh. “Of course I suppose I’m out of your league. But I had you. And I got to have a happy childhood, with mum and dad who were always there for me and a miraculously disaster-free bar mitzvah. And you were always there for me when things got too hard, or even when they didn’t, and you made sure I was taken care of anyway. I could have died living vicariously through fake postcards experiencing nothing more than the four walls of a museum gift shop, but I got to go to Egypt and meet Layla and save the world. I have been angry with you. And I will be, sometime in the future. I don’t— always agree with how you do things. I don’t think you know how it makes other people feel. But you gave me this life. You have been your brother’s keeper every night and every day. What more could I have ever asked for?”

Steven reaches over the table and squeezes Marc’s hand fondly. “Come on mate. We’re dead now. No use dwelling on all that too much.”