Samuel waits.
Outsider knows why, but he waits, once again, for Corvo to finish his killing, idling in the stormy waters around Kingsparrow Island until the screams and gunshots and blaring alarms finally die down to silence.
And when Corvo returns from the lighthouse, alone and unspeaking and reeking of blood, he steps into the boat without pause, like he never doubted Samuel would still be there.
Samuel supposes he was right.
Dunwall is burning within the day. The Tower was the first to catch, too many nobles desperate for the power it represented sitting empty, but it isn't long before nearly every part of the city is alight.
Not here, though. Even fire and rats seem to overlook the ruined Hound Pits. Most of the bodies are still untouched, lying where they fell in the dark, bloodstained dirt.
Samuel watches the flames from the shore, water lapping at his boots as he stares at the rising smoke. He fills his pipe and packs it down, rummages through his pockets for a match dry enough to light. It's the last of his tobacco, and he doesn't imagine he'll finding an open shop any time soon, but he needs something to still his shaking hands.
"I've lived my whole life in this city, you know?" he says when he feels steady enough. "I know it's been eating itself alive for a while now, but it's still hard to see it finally fall. Don't know how it is for you, though."
Gravel crunches behind him as Corvo shifts his weight. "Lived longer here than Karnaca."
These are the first words out of his mouth since coming down from the lighthouse, and there's an unsteadiness to his voice that makes Samuel turn around. He catches Corvo pulling his hand from under his coat with a wince, frowning at his red-stained fingers, and quickly wiping them off.
Guilt twinges at Samuel's heart. The way everything has been happening, it never even occurred to him that the stench of blood from Corvo might actually be his own this time.
"I can take a look at that, if you want," Samuel offers, the words out of his mouth before he can even think to stop them. He gestures in the direction of the abandoned pub. "There was a fair stock of medical supplies we had stashed in there, and I doubt the Watch had the time to haul off all the good stuff."
Corvo's gaze stays fixed on the burning city. It's a long, quiet moment before he nods.
Samuel is no surgeon, but a man learns a few things about patching up injuries after a few years at sea. Corvo won't heal pretty, but he will heal, and that's about the best they can hope for at this point.
Might be more than he deserves.
It's a bitter, petty thought, earned as it might be, and he pushes it away as quickly as it came. Whatever it is that's kept Samuel coming back through all this death and killing manages to keep his hands working steady against any of that nagging doubt. It's a nasty wound, and he can't afford the distraction.
The sounds of chaos out in the city are loud enough to be heard from within the pub by the time he finishes. Not on top of them yet, but it's all working its way closer. He frowns as he wipes drying blood away from his rough line of sutures. "You can't stay here, Corvo."
Corvo's hand grabs suddenly for his own, fingers trembling, ragged-edged nails scraping against his palm. "Don't send me away," he pleads. "Not yet. You're the only one I have left."
His tone of voice is more startling to Samuel than the sudden movement, that piercing desperation and sorrow.
He came back down to the boat alone.
Samuel doesn't want to ask the question, but he needs to know the answer. "What happened on that island?"
The grip on his hand tightens as Corvo closes his eyes. "I didn't make it in time," he says, head shaking, voice cracking. "I couldn't stop them. I kept thinking if I just moved quick enough I could keep her safe. Get through all this before anything could happen, get Emily back where she belonged. I couldn't stop to think. I just had to get it done, and killing was faster. But it wasn't enough. I couldn't save her."
Everything for nothing.
Samuel lets out a shaky sigh into the long, dark silence that follows, of resignation or relief, he isn't quite sure. He already guessed how it ended, just needed to know the why. It's none of it a good enough reason for all that's been done, but it's something he can understand, something far better than what he feared.
Corvo was a man before he became a monster, after all, a good man who wanted nothing more than to protect those closest to him, who stayed up whispering stories to Emily to send her to sleep, who spoke little beyond that but always had a few words of thanks for Samuel as they drifted across the Wrenhaven together. He was a man Samuel admired.
He shakes his head. No, it wasn't just admiration or an old sailor's sense of duty that kept Samuel sticking by Corvo's side through all of this. It was something far more foolish. And this is heartbreak as much as disappointment.
Samuel had plans to leave Dunwall alone when this was finished, formed while the bodies were falling, to get on the first ship that would take him, go out to sea and try to forget once more.
The regret and despair in Corvo's eyes see those plans crumbling.
He sets his other hand over Corvo's, stilling the trembling between his fingers. "I only meant the city won't be safe much longer, for you least of all," he says. And then, very carefully, "We need to find somewhere else to go."