"Uh... Hello?" Booker Dewitt said at the girl looking, terrified. She shrieked, and he fell down to the floor hard. She flung books about quantum physics and the whatnot, but Booker was more focused on not being hit by a book-wielding frightened girl.

"Hey, would you- WOULD YOU STOP THAT?"

"Found something!" Elizabeth yelled as she threw a bottle of salts at her companion, Booker Dewitt.

"Much obliged!" as Dewitt caught the tossed bottle, and drank quickly, as he started to use his vigors to dominate the battle.

Dewitt thought as the attack from the Columbian police was over, "The girl is pretty useful...", and walked up to a vending machine.

"Hmm..." He said as his hand absently drifted to his wallet as he checked for what he needed.

His wallet felt light, and looked inside. "Let's see, seventeen silver eagles..." He frowned as he came across a picture of his beloved deceased wife. "A Pinkerton badge... and a stick of gum. "Dammit", he thought as he chewed the piece of gum. He looked around, and noticed Elizabeth absent. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth!" He shouted, looking for the girl. Elizabeth's voice shouted, "Over here!" and Booker came to her.

"Need this?" As she threw a silver eagle. But somehow, in his hand, it became a pile of coins. Booker had no complaint, but wondered how in the world she did that. He shrugged it off, thanked her, and bought a First Aid Kit, and some ammunition.

In the heat of battle, as the Vox Populi were aiding Booker, Dewitt ran out of Salts. Seeing none in sight, he looked around. "Dammit!" he cursed, as the Vox stormed the place.

"Booker, catch!" As Elizabeth seemingly pulled a bottle out of nowhere. "The hell..." He mumbled to himself, and caught the salts, and drank. He went back, his Hand Cannon dispatching each soldier in a mere minute, with the aid of Bucking Bronco. His revolver went dry, and cursed once more. "Here!" Elizabeth exclaimed, as she threw a seemingly light, reloaded, Hand Cannon toward him, which went heavy, and hit him in the gut. He would've yelled at her poor aim, but seeing as how there were deadly soldiers with death-spewing machines, he ignored the pain in the stomach, and fought on.

Blood from his hand smeared onto the wall, as the mercenary was leaning, near death, his shield not recharging yet.

"Catch!" the feminine voice yelled. The bag filled with sharp instruments hit him in the face, and thus he was knocked out, his head hitting the ground, as he groaned, "Elizabeth..." But the girl was already gone, looking for more trinkets to forcefully throw at her companion.

As the Pinkerton fought against his new enemies, Booker emptied all his ammo in his shotgun. "Dammit! Elizabeth!?", "I'm looking!" and a coin was tossed to him. "The hell am I going to do with this? Elizabeth?!" But she was already gone, and the nearest vending machine was being blocked by the Vox. Crap.

"I found something!" Booker's female companion exclaimed, and when Dewitt faced her, a heavy shotgun was flung to his face, knocking him over onto the ground, Elizabeth not giving any apology.

"Elizabeth... We need to talk." Booker sighed as they walked down the bloodied street.

"About what?" She questioned.

Booker, fatigued, took a seat on one of the tables outside one of the abandoned restaurants, as she took one too.

"Listen... Elizabeth, what the hell is wrong with you aim?"

"My aim at what? You're the one who's shooting, not me."

"At throwing."

"Throwing?"

"Yes, listen, haven't you noticed you hitting me with several dangerous objects, particularly glass bottles, heavy guns, and books?"

"What are you talking about? I've got everything to you, right?"

"Yes but-"

"But what?" Elizabeth pouted, obviously upset that Booker isn't impressed at her magnificent throwing skills.

"It's hurting me."

Elizabeth frowned, got up, but not before she threw a full bottle of salts at Booker's face, dead center on his nose.

"Elizabeth..." Booker called as they walked the lively streets of Columbia.

"What do you need, Mr. Dewitt who doesn't need my services."

Booker sighed. "First of all, I can live without your "services", and second, that's a horrible insult." She frowned, a look of passive anger at him.

"Hmph." She pouted. "Elizabeth, stop acting like a child." She faced away from him. " Hey, c'mon, I'm sorry." He pleaded as he tried to make him face her. After several failed attempts, he stopped.

"Booker."

Dewitt faced her. "Catch." As a fistful of mud splattered on his face, and Elizabeth ran laughing, while Dewitt wiped away the grime and chased her around the streets, as the people watched them.