My Sundown
They haggle, but it's a formality. Endgame's the same, be it ten years or five or tomorrow.
Fear driving his words, not self-preservation.
He'd trade places with Sammy in a heartbeat if she told him that was his only option.
If she said straight swap take it or leave, he'd say sold, bitch, and she'd kiss him dead.
They both know it.
But he's damn well allowed to be scared.
Terrified, even.
Terrified more of what will happen to Sam without him.
So, one year. Practically nothing.
She wins, but she doesn't have to seem so damn pleased with herself.