It's not a— [Not a game, he would say, but he gives a frustrated huff instead. He drops the bead, too, letting it bounce on the tabletop before starting to roll. Then he lowers himself into a sulk, somewhere between drained and personally offended, resting his chin on the table.]

No, because you can't "win" at "life". I mean, you'll die eventually. That's not loss, it's just an inevitability. Staying alive isn't winning. It isn't a game, didn't you hear me say that, it isn't one... It's a... performance. Life is a performance, and when you do things— [In gesture, like a know-it-all, he prods at his unfinished dreamcatcher.] When you do things, you're just carrying on. When you stop doing things, that's it. No winning or losing, just the end.

[...]

This business from the Ringmaster, whatever whim she wants, I don't know, maybe it's a game to her. But probably we're just its parts. That's what I think. Best, in that case, to do it and get it over with, you know?

[Despite his dawdling.]