[When Brady hears those words, he looks like he's been physically stricken, eyes wide in shock and hurt betrayal. Don't bother?]

... how... how can ya just... [He chokes on his voice for a moment, swallowing hard once, twice, then lets out a broken-sounding sob that shakes his entire frame. The staff drops from loose fingers, and Brady's arms reach out, wrapping around Inigo in a desperate attempt to deny the inevitable. As if by folding himself over the other, he could keep Inigo from death itself.] Y-y-ya can't j-just say t-that kinda th-thing to me - [Another sob cuts him off, breath hiccuping from his crying, but he pushes on.] I ain't j-just gonna s-sit here and watch ya die!! I'm supposed to p-play for yer dances, remember? Y-ya can't do this to us!!

[And then quieter, but no less anguished:]

Damn it, you can't do this to me.