"You'll find this funny to hear," Alpha says suddenly, "but I think I'm beginning to get tired of this."
They're standing in the doorway of a rundown old shack, watching the rain fall, but Echo knows he doesn't mean waiting out the storm. She looks down, watching where the water splatters on the porch and hits her boots, and says, "Thought you lived for this kind of thing."
He smiles, almost nostalgic. "Oh, I did once." The day the world fell apart, he'd laughed before joining the chaos. "But the psychopaths are getting bored, and the pacifists are taking advantage of the silence to make themselves heard." He doesn't have to say that Paul Ballard's voice is a rallying cry.
Echo lifts her chin, and they share a brief, sideways glance. She nods, lets her eyes drift back to the storm. Feeling yourself so divided is something they both understand too well. "I hope you can keep the sane ones quiet for a little longer," she begins, and she can hear Alpha smother a short laugh. She turns to look at him, her expression serious. "You know we need you for this."
He smirks down at her, somehow fond and sardonic all at once. "Don't worry. I'll be here long after you stop wanting me around."
She looks away.
The rain begins to slow and comes to a stop as the sun sets, and Echo lifts her gun and steps outside the door for first watch. Tomorrow they meet up with Paul's group before moving into Reno.