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Renee suggested talking. It was better than shooting, but there weren't any guarantees it wasn't going to come to that. They had guns, Amelia had some sort of weapon - Sam couldn't remember if she had a gun as well. This could get tricky. They could still run, leave before they were forced into a confrontation.

Before he could mutter a response, Amelia noticed them.

The shotgun twitched in Sam's hands, as if to take aim in her general direction, but only until he noticed that she was saying something. Not going for whatever weapon she had. She was asking them not to shoot. Pleading, even.

It felt weird to Sam. He, with a gun, was the threat. If he wanted to, he could pull the trigger, end her life. It felt wrong, having that much power, and yet being so powerless against the Sheriff's whole mind game. The power - that's what Sam had wanted. To be a viable threat, so that others wouldn't take advantage of him again.

Still didn't feel right.

"We're not here to shoot you," Sam said, shooting a sideways glance at Renee. "At least, that isn't my intention at the moment. We've got... we need to talk."

He wasn't sure about this. Try to get Amelia not to kill anymore, that was a plan. Maybe not the best plan, but it was the only plan he had at the moment, other than maybe running if he got the chance and things were going badly.

He was beginning to regret this already.
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Program V3 Prologue:
Sylvia Veneski -- F32 -- Clothes Hanger -- Alive -- Someday We Won't Remember This

Auld Lang Syne
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Far From Home · Cactus Patch Springs
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