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Foolish move. He'd known it from the start. Renee was making points against finding Delilah, and he knew they were valid - he'd gone over them many times before.

"You won't need murderers anywhere near you." He was dodging the pressing question. He'd get around to it. Sam was acutely aware of the shotgun's pressure on his palms, the two packs resting on his shoulders. One was Delilah's. "I'm not going to kill her."

One of his hands was off the shotgun, gesturing out the saloon doors, as he looked her in the eyes and tried to explain.

"I was with Delilah when Richard died. Richard attacked us. She was afraid. She made a mistake. She ran away." His feet took small steps, sideways, towards the brightness outside. "I don't know about Patrick."

"I heard what you said, and you might be right. But she's probably out there scared and about to kill more people, and I might be one of the only people that can help her, stop her. It sounds like arrogant junk but it could be true. It's something that matters." He hoped he was making the right points; he hoped that somehow he could make her understand that this was something he needed to do. It didn't seem likely.

"I'm not asking you to come."
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Program V3 Prologue:
Sylvia Veneski -- F32 -- Clothes Hanger -- Alive -- Stroke of Midnight

Auld Lang Syne
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While Rome Burns · The Saloon
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