Life's a bitch,” I said. And then you die,” Larry finished for me.

The exchange compresses a bleak, streetwise philosophy into a bit of dialogue: suffering is ordinary, and mortality is the inevitable punchline. By splitting the saying between two speakers, Hamilton turns a cynical aphorism into a moment of camaraderie—one character begins the complaint and the other completes it, signaling shared experience and a coping mechanism built on gallows humor. The bluntness (“bitch,” “die”) rejects sentimentality and frames hardship as something to be endured rather than romanticized. In a broader noir/urban-fantasy tonal register, the line functions as emotional armor: acknowledging despair without collapsing into it, and using wit to keep moving forward.