Heathcliff presses a hand over his eyes and groans audibly at this ever-deepening angst. He can't take it. Who wants to think about stuff like that? "Nobody's dying along!" he insists as he drops his hand again and then gestures toward Cash, "Unless they, like, want to. And you're both right. Who cares about admirers or chocolate flowers? Go to the dance and find someone to have fun with and maybe that'll be something. But even if it's not you still had fun at a dance. Right?"