Well, now, you couldn't possibly expect a scene in which - say - your protagonist bemusedly winds up a music box mechanism, its tinny, childish rendition of "Happy Birthday to You" clearly reminding him of better, happier days... right up until the moment he comes dangerously close to allowing himself to feel, when his defenses come right back up, and he pockets it while continuing to dispassionately loot the corpses of the men he has just killed.
Every moment you waste with such superfluous "intelligently written character development" nonsense is a moment in which nothing is exploding, don't you know.
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