For a moment he feels that same old impulse to dance away from the issue. To buy time by stammering, taking refuge in a non sequitur, even making an (apparently) accidental, clumsy pratfall. But that impulse fades almost as soon as it appears.

"The lives we led. They were ... frantic. Always on the brink of disaster. It really was quite easy to avoid almost anything we wanted to."

"We could have chosen to live that way here too, I suppose."

"We could have."

But, no, he can't even pretend to say that with any conviction.