Which was the question on everyone’s mind, right?
And they showed it the way it should have been shown:
No nickel-plated handgun to the temple.
No quick zoom, 180 pan to the shotgun, quick cut to the reaction shot.
No red spray, following by flapping of hands or feet.
Nothing serendipitous, like a car crash.
Nothing sinister and torturous.
Just that familiar, smug Tony Soprano glare, a cross between pissed off, worn out, jaded, and cynical. And then black, like it is when you don’t see it coming.