Mark, did you cry at your mom's funeral? Why? I don't know. I figured you're expected to...

[Mark finds Henry looking at the mirror in his bedroom with tears down his eyes] Henry: Mark, did you cry at your mom's funeral? Mark: Why? Henry: I don't know. I figured you're expected to cry at your mom's funeral, but I don't know. Mark: You wouldn't. Henry: Wouldn't what? Mark: Hurt her. Henry: Do you really think I'd hurt my own... Oh, wait. Mark: What? Henry: I just remembered. She's not my mom anymore, she's yours. Isn't that what you said? She's your mother now. Mark: Yeah. Henry: Your mom, my mom... What the hell? We'll both miss her. Mark: I'll kill you first. Henry: Poor Mark. So violent, so disturbed. If you don't watch out, they're gonna lock you up. Mark: [Mark dashes for a pair of scissors and holds them to Henry's neck] I could kill you now. Henry: Go ahead. Jam it in. Gotta push pretty hard though. The blood'll go right across the room. Come on. Come on. Wallace Evans: Henry, have you seen... Henry: Dad, Dad! Help me! Wallace Evans: [Uncle Wallace pulls Mark off of Henry and looks at him face-to-face] Mark! What the hell do you think you were doing? Answer me, goddamn it! Henry: Don't be mad at Mark, he's just not himself. Wallace Evans: This is serious, Mark. You could have hurt him. Mark: He's the one who wants to hurt people! Henry: Mark, I'm sorry you don't want to be friends. [Uncle Wallace takes Mark downstairs by the arm]