SQUID STABS A HOBO
On the strip, high-tech robots with cathode-screen faces patrolled the streets where the richest of the rich gambled in their fancy suits and shiny shoes. Bright, colorful lights shone bright against the night sky. But this was the Westside; here in the foreground, shit was real, shit was dirty. The lights cast a sickly yellow glow against the pavement. Sometimes they flickered.
Real shit. That's what those Blue-Blood son's-of-bitches were missing. Why they didn't have a soul.
"But screw them, Right?" said Squid, as she kicked the sleeping Hobo in the ribs. He didn't respond. He just kept breathing real fast and hard, so she kicked him again, harder. "Come on, get up!"
"Maybe he's dead," suggested Private Connor Bayen, that asshat combat medic with his ridiculous red locks, who "the-man" had decided to chain to Squid's ankle. Squid gave him a look that suggested otherwise.
Why had they even sent him along with her? Probably just to slow her down, to keep her in line- like some sort of human ball-and-chain. Slowly, menacingly Squid began to approach him.
"So we're gonna play games, Private Bayen? Is that what you want?" Bayen grinned uncomfortably in response. He'd told her not to call him that. In the complete absence of anything intelligent to say, a little laugh escaped through his teeth. "Ohhh, so it's funny? You think it's funny now? Do I look like I'm joking?"
"No, not at all buddy. I'm just-"
"Just what? Don't "Buddy" me, Private Bayen! This guy's he's- he's probably dying, and you think now is a good time to be fucking with me? What kind of medic are you!?"
By now, Bayen had taken a good few steps back. Squid was baring all of her crooked little fangs, and her pupils were drawn to a point. Her eyeballs were bursting with angry red vessels, which she seemed to be straining hard to coil out from her sclera and into Bayen's internal organs. The two stared each other down.
"Hey Squid? Could you like, pipe down and listen to me for just a second?" She didn't respond. "Do you actually think he's dying? Because I think he's just drunk, but if you think that he's dying, then we should talk about that."
And just like that, her behavior relaxed. Her shoulders untensed, her stance loosened. The malice in her eyes blew away, as if dispersed by a strong wind. Something like a smile spread across her horrible, acne-scarred little face.
"Oh, no. I was just fucking with you. He's totally drunk. But I gotta keep my rep." She punched Bayen in the shoulder. Considering her adolescence, it was strange how confident, how powerful the gesture was. "I have to keep it clear who's the real boss here. Compris?"
"You know, I think I'm starting to understand why no one wants you as a cadet. This isn't even fun. You're just a piece of shit."
Squid was still smiling. Still staring. She hadn't even blinked. Bayen gave her an incredulous look.
"What!?"
"Compris?"
Bayen's leg twitched. He let out a sharp sigh. " ...Compris. "
Apparently satisfied, Squid nodded a slow, dangerous kind of nod. "That's right," she said. She stalked off to examine the unconscious hobo. Her oversized medical bag rested against the ground as she squatted next to him.
A irway: Well, he's still alive, so obviously it's good. I don't see any puke.
B reathing: Really fast. Weird.
C irculation: My pride keeps me from checking for a pulse because he is literally breathing so hard I can smell it.
D isability: Fuck yeah he's disabled. The dumb son of a bitch is sleeping good.
B reathing again: Hey wait, that doesn't smell like beer at all. Smells like… cocktails? Some kind of fruit?
OH SHIT
E xposure: This is taking too long. Why don't I just check his blood sugar already?
Fuck this:
Before anyone could stop her, Squid was holding her switchblade in her hand, and flicking it across the hobo's forearm. He let out a sad little grunt as the blood burbled up out of the laceration.
"What are you- Oh." Bayen went through about five facial expressions as he wondered just what the hell Squid was doing, saw her pull out the blood glucose meter, and identified the issue. He shook his head. "Jesus, child, you don't need that much blood! Just a few drops!"
Squid waved her knife at him. "My name is Squid, Bayen! S-K-W-I-D!"
"Mm. Is it spelled wrong on purpose?"
"Kill yourself." Bayen made his way over to stare at the meter as Squid inserted the newly bloodied strip inside. The tip was the same deep blue as the nighttime sky.
100-
200-
300-
400-
500…
Slowly, surely, the thin black needle crept clockwise across the faded markings, and Bayen's eyebrows kept arching higher and higher. Squid watched dutifully. Eventually the needle stopped moving, not because it had decided on a number, but because it had reached the end of the line; the needle could not physically move any further. Squid threw her fists up with all the gusto of a gambling addict who'd just earned fifty caps on a hundred-cap scratch-off.
"Heeeeyyyyy! It's capped out! The meter's fuckin capped!" She tried Bayen for a high five, but he had gone into stick-in-the-mud mode. He was just staring at the Hobo now, with an expression that let you know that the gears in his head were turning.
"Well," he said. He gave it some thought. "This sucks."
"Bayen, the meter is capped- That's fuckin' sick! Have you ever seen it do that?"
"No, because I've never had to treat a diabetec whose as screwed as this guy. The meter being maxed out isn't a good thing, shitheel."
Squid did something resembling a giggle. "Nah man, he's- he's gonna get super powers, yo. He's gonna be like, uh, like Manta man, with radiation. But with his blood sugar!"
Bayen opened his mouth. "What."
"Like, his blood sugar is so high, the power of the sugar courses through his veins, and he becomes some sort of evolved being. Dextroman, or, or uh, The Ketoacid Boy! Using the power of his blood's acid component for good!"
"Yeah, laugh it up jackass. We still have to figure out what we're gonna do with him, and besides calling for backup, I'm not coming up with any ideas! Unless you want to carry him back to the fort?" Squid rolled her eyes.
"Come on, he just needs insulin. You prep the site for me and I'll jab him right now. Like, I could have fixed this in the time-"
"We don't carry insulin."
Squid froze in her tracks, expression and all. If you tapped her too hard right then, a chunk might have broken off.
"...What?"
"Neither of us are nurses or docs, so we took the BLS bag. Insulin isn't a BLS drug. It's not in the bag."
Squid eyed the bag on her shoulder with disgust. "Aw, that's- that's bullshit! I know how to dose insulin! Why can't I give insulin!?"
"Mm. What's the dose, then?" There was a moment of silence. And another. Eventually, Squid kicked a rock, and maybe said something under breath. But it didn't have anything to do with insulin dosing. Bayen took his chance to gloat. "Do you even know the units ?"
"Milligrams, duh." Bayen didn't even bother shaking his head to tell her she was wrong. His silence was enough . She kicked a stupid looking rock in protest. "Well, if it was a BLS drug, I'd know this stuff!"
" You thought it was one," Bayen thought about saying, but it was clear by now that escalation was the last thing this situation warranted. He pointed over his shoulder. "Fort's a few miles that way. Even between the two of us, I don't think we can carry him on our own..."
"No shit?"
Squid's comment went unacknowledged. Bayen pointed again, this time at the big, blinking neon sign down the street. The Atomic Wrangler. Freeside's premiere casino, bar, and brothel.
"...What we can do is drag this poor dude to the Wrangler, start some fluids, and call for backup. I hear Nurse Marwan is working today, he's a city-bird, he loves shit like this." Bayen grabbed the unconscious man's arms, and hoisted him up a bit. He nodded at Squid, who looked indifferent. She was crossing her arms. "You not hear me? Let's go!"
"I dunno about this plan. I don't like Marwan, and besides, how are we gonna call for backup at the bar without a-"
"Radio?" He smiled. "I've got an idea, little lady, calm yourself! For now, why don't you just grab those legs, and at least pretend to have some faith in your preceptor?"
Squid made a fist. Dug her nails into her palm, and grit her yellow teeth. Her left foot shifted forward. Bayen saw it coming, but he saw it too late- he couldn't let go of the patient, not without dropping him; All he could do now was hope that he lived to regret his decision.
He had called her "little lady," after all. Did he really think she was going to let that slide?
-Break-
"Sixteen Gauge." She passed him the IV catheter. He tried pulling it out of the safety cap, but ended up pulling the catheter straight off the needle in the process. A single, primal, "FUCK!" escaped his throat as he stabbed the bare needle into the counter-top, right next to the patient's head. He refused to look at Squid as he raised his hand once again. "Sixteen Gauge."
"I'm sorry for breaking your nose," she mumbled, as she presented him with another IV cath. He didn't respond. He didn't even look up from the patient's arm. A little burst of red appeared in the flashback chamber, the rubber tourniquet made a quiet slap as it released, and soon Bayen was sticking his hand out once again.
"Flush."
Squid handed him the saline flush, and realized her mistake immediately- no Blue-tip, whatever it was called. Nothing to stop the IV line from bleeding everywhere. Bayen realized it too, and he smacked the syringe out of her hand, hard. He pointed at the bag.
"Valve. Right Goddamn Now."
Mr. Garret, the bartender, looked sort of upset- almost like he was about to say something. Squid raised her hand. "You- I told you not to talk to me like-!"
"I don't really feel like talking with you at all right now, Squid."
And neither did Squid, after that. She stalked over the BLS bag, rummaged around for a bit, and grabbed a valve. She looked down at the saline flush on the floor, and then back at the bag. She decided to grab a new flush. No point stooping more than she had to. She made a point to do the customary air-bubble-purge right in Bayen's face.
"Whoops." 0.9% saline dripping down his busted nose, Bayen snatched the flush from her and screwed it into the line. He pushed a few milliliters in, and drew a bit out. Despite the tense atmosphere, there was a palpable bit of relief when the saline clouded red. Bayen sighed.
"Line's patent." He removed the stethoscope from his neck, slid the roll of tape off the end, and got to work securing the line to the patient's skin. He clicked his tongue. "Let's go! We should've had the saline ready, had the line prepped, where the hell is it!?"
"Behind the bag." There was a moment of silence. Bayen tried to think of a clever retort, but he had nothing. He just shook his head. "Well, get it then. You're sure you prepped the tubing?"
Squid presented him with the tubing. "I said what I said."
Together, the two hooked up the line, got it flowing, and looked for something to hang the bag from. Bayen pointed at a yellow, peeling painting of The Mona Lisa wielding an AK-47 in her delicate hands, hung beside the bar.
"Mind if we take this off the wall, Mr. Garret?" He didn't wait for a reply, although the bartender probably said yes. He just got up on his tippy-toes and knocked that painting right off the wall, paying absolutely no mind to what happened when it hit the floor. He hung the bag on the protruding nail. "Now for the radio…"
"You never explained this part to me," said Squid, her tone still sour. Bayen ignored her again. That was quickly becoming his favorite tactic. It was all he could do to avoid the eventual, inevitable defenestration. He hadn't decided whether it would be Himself or her forcefully exiting through the window yet.
"Sooo, Mr. Garret- thanks for letting us use your bar like this. But we're gonna need to ask you for something else, too."
"Will you pay me?" The words were instant, automatic. It was almost like James Garret disappeared for a moment, and the financial interests of his failing business just took over his empty shell, spoke through his vessel.
Bayen shook his head. "No, I'm not gonna pay you, cause my boss already has. You probably don't think about this very often, but the Follower's pay you five caps every month, so that we can use your radio transceiver if there's an emergency." He patted the patient on his hot, dry forehead, ruffled his thinning gray hair. A cloud of dead skin puffed into the air like snow. "I think our man here would say this counts as an emergency. Wouldn't you agree?"
Mr. Garret's expression barely changed. He looked so empty, so hungry… "I wasn't really asking, Doc. Five caps a month isn't much to me- hell, I'm not even sure I'm getting it. But it sounds like that radio would be worth a lot to you right now." He broke eye contact. Something like shame might've crept into his demeanor, but his voice was steady. "One hundred caps. Think of it as the price for all the customers I've lost today because of this… Urban Outdoorsman, who I let you treat on my bar table. I think that's very fair."
Before he was even done talking, Squid was pulling out her switch-knife. Bayen heard the "THWICK" of the mechanism deploying and instantly threw out his hand. Mr Garret cried out in surprise.
"Squid, don't you fucking- SQUID!"
She had already jumped up the bar, and was holding the blade dangerously close to Mr. Garret's face. He and Bayen exchanged baffled looks.
"Squeak again and I'll cut out your eye," said Squid. Mr. Garret just nodded and looked at Bayen.
" What the fuck do we do now?" said Mr. Garret's eyes. Bayen squared his shoulders.
"Squid, get down from there right now." She didn't budge.
"Or else?"
Bayen shifted his weight. He focused his eyes on Squid's nasty little blade, eyed her sweaty, shaking fingers. He waited for her grip to loosen…
"He tried to rob us, Bayen! You told me-"
And pounced.
The scene would have been comical if it weren't for the very real knife flying right past Mr. Garret's fleshy face, bouncing off the bar table next to the patient's arm, and clattering off the floorboards. Bayen continued to twist Squid's wrist as she made a desperate scramble for her knife, kicking her sneakers against the bar and thrashing against his weight- all the while, not making a sound louder than a quiet growl, or the squeaking of her rubber soles against the wooden bar. There were presumably guards somewhere in the building, after all.
"James, put that knife up somewhere high. And Squid, I swear to god, I will beat the fuck out of you if you don't stop this shit."
Instantly, Squid stopped struggling and twisted her neck around. She flicked her bloodshot eyes up to meet his. "Really?"
Bayen loosened his grip. Squid stumbled back off the bar table and took a few doomed shot glasses with her, but her wary gaze never broke with his. She ran her tongue over her teeth. " Finally! Well, I'm not gonna stop being a stupid piece of shit any time soon, so you're just have to beat me then! Why don't you just get it over with now then, huh?"
James had disappeared somewhere. The rest of the bar patrons had either left by now, or were too drunk to care about the antics of the two Followers. It was just them and the patient, behind the bar, in a little bubble world. Bayen set his jaw.
"Squid…" He shook his head. "I'm not- Do I need to keep calling you that stupid fucking name? Really? Squid? "
She was doing her routine again. She didn't blink. Didn't move. Her arms, which she'd been holding up in front of her, now hung limp at her sides. She stuck out her jaw.
"Well?"
Down the hall, there were footsteps again. Faint footsteps, getting closer. Bayen's expression had softened by now, but Squid only took this as further provocation. She tilted her head. " Wellllllllll? "
"It's not worth it," said Bayen. "I'm not going to hit you. You know I'm not going to hit you."
Squid threw her arms out to demonstrate her victory, but she wasn't excited, wasn't smiling. She spit on the floor as Mr. Garret re-entered the bar with his sister, Ms. Francine Garrett, and several armed guards. None of them seemed particularly phased by any of the chaos.
"Pathetic. You're pathetic, Connor!"
Mr. Garret looked around at the mess of broken shot glasses on the floor and rubber scuff marks on his currently-occupied bar-table, and decided not to say anything. His sister, who was still in her nightgown, gave him a curt nod.
"I think I'll take it from here, James." She almost stepped behind the bar from the hallway, but her brother stopped her before she could cross the threshold of the doorway. She eyed the broken glass. "Oh- right. Hmm."
"Listen, I'm extremely sorry about my associate, she was way out of line. I don't know what the hell got into her- but we still need to use your radio. Can we still arrange something?" A few of the guards laughed. Ms Garret smiled.
"Out of line'' is an understatement, from what I hear. But no harm, no foul! We can still arrange something- for double the price. 200 caps. Plus 20 for all the damage to the bar."
Before anyone else could do or say anything, Bayen was fishing for change in his pockets.
"Would NCR Dollars work? I've got 100 for a down payment right now, and you can put the rest on the follower's tab. You know we're good for it."
Ms. Garret started to speak up in protest, but it was already over- as soon as the bills came out, Mr. Garret came striding across broken glass to snatch them out of Bayen's hand. Every movement betrayed his desperation; his fingers were just a little too quick, his grip just a little bit too tight. His sister rolled her eyes.
"...If there's nothing else, I'll just go back to bed." She beckoned for the guards, and they all disappeared into the hallway together.
Mr Garrett, meanwhile, was still counting the bills to make sure they were right. He glanced over his shoulder. "And uh… you're sure Julie will actually pay the bill? Given the nature of the…?"
Bayen shrugged. "Just add it to the Follower's tab. The shit will roll downhill, trust me. If she asks you anything, it will be " who, " not, "what," or, "why."
Mr. Garrett seemed genuinely relieved. "Got it. Well, in that case, uh, why don't you two follow me? Let's just put all this messy business behind us, and settle this once and for all."
Bayen gave him a humorless grin. "Hey, now you're making sense! Let's go get that radio fired up." The three started to set off together, but Bayen gave Squid a gentle push back on the shoulder. She looked like she might burst a blood vessel.
"What now!?"
He pointed at the patient. "You need to stay and watch this dude, yell for me if he stops breathing or gets worse in any way. I'll figure out the radio stuff."
Squid looked unamused. "Oh, so now you trust me with patient care?"
"I am really trying, Squid. Honestly. But I just don't know how many chances I'm supposed to give you- So don't fuck this one up, alright?" She started to come up with a retort, but then she realized that Bayen was being completely, maddeningly sincere. She shook her head.
"I won't..."
Slowly, silently, Bayen turned back around, apparently satisfied. Yet his posture told her that he wasn't at all surprised when the other shoe dropped.
"But it isn't because of you."
"I know."
And that was that. Bayen and Mr Garret disappeared around the corner, and Squid was left with the patient, all alone in the bubble world behind the bar counter.
-Break-
"The cavalry's arrived, folks and folk-ettes! Wee-Woo!"
Squid looked up from her half-empty glass of whisky to see a young, blonde man in a dirty white coat, barely taller than her, come bursting in through the front doors of the bar with an absolutely massive radio strapped to his back. Doctor Isaac! The antenna twanged against the doorframe as he entered the room. Another man entered behind him, looking tired and annoyed.
"Yes, that's us. Good afternoon… Squid. Where's your preceptor?"
Squid rolled her eyes. Nurse Marwan Shehab, the protocol guy. Middle aged, fat, and the biggest example of what was wrong with the Followers- no, what was wrong with society. She downed the rest of her whiskey, then blanched in disgust.
"Whooaaa there madame, that's a lot of alcohol at once for someone your age! have you considered chasing it with something, get the best of both worlds?"
Despite her sour mood and the sudden appearance of her least favorite clinician, she couldn't help but smile a little bit. "Fuck a chaser. Chasers are for pussies."
Doctor Isaac laughed. "Well, normally I'd agree. But that's a pretty brave amount of liquor for anyone- I mean, at your age, I usually preferred to enjoy a glass of whiskey or two, or uh, or three, over the course of a good long breakfast, lunch or supper! Not all at once, you know?"
"Guess it sorta misses the point, huh?"
Doctor Isaac nodded sagely. "Mmmmhhhm. That's what Vodka, or my best friend, Tequila, is for!"
By now, Bayen had come rushing back from his post at the radio transceiver, and Nurse Marwan was already getting to work measuring up the insulin. Squid eyed the syringe.
"Hey, Doctor Isaac…" she whispered, leaning in close and cupping a hand over her mouth. Isaac raised an eyebrow. "How do you dose insulin again? Asking for a friend."
"0.1 Units per kilogram loading dose. 0.1 per hour after that, titrated to effect."
She bunched up her shoulders. Units? "What… What are the units?"
Isaac shrugged. "Dunno. Just units, I guess." He ruffled her short, greasy hair. Anyone else would've gotten bit for that, but not Isaac. Isaac was alright. "Take care of yourself, Squid, and take care of your patients. Don't drink more than your weight."
Squid watched him regroup with Nurse Marwan and Bayen, who began relaying a (heavily censored) version of the day's events to the newly arrived clinicians. She couldn't hear the whole conversation, but she could tell whenever they were talking about her and her shenanigans because Bayen and Marwan would scowl at her, and Isaac would make a really obvious effort to look at anything or anyone but her. She poured herself another glass of whiskey. Her last for tonight, she'd decided. She'd reached a level of drunkenness over the last hour or two of waiting where she no longer hated everyone and everything so much as toler -hated them. She didn't want to ruin that by puking all over the floor, or going so far around the terrible horseshoe of drunkenness that she ended up experiencing symptoms of soberness again, like wanting to fight everyone, or feeling like she had to cry but not having any tears in her body, so opting for the spreading-of-uncomfortable-truths-that-no-one-else-was-ready-for instead.
Somewhere in the corner of her vision, Squid watched Isaac jumping up to reach the saline bag on the wall, and injecting something into it- probably that insulin maintenance drip, before quietly requesting help in getting the bag back up to its rightful place. Bayen helped him get situated, and then started heading towards the bar- towards her. Squid quickly tucked her head into her arms and turned away.
"How much did you drink tonight?"
Squid kept her face buried in her arms as Bayen pulled up a chair next to her. In just a few seconds, all the pleasant feelings she'd built up while drinking became diluted with memories of Bayen's transgressions. She started to feel some very sober behavior coming on.
"None of your Biz." Something made a glass noise. Squid lifted her head up a bit, noticed that her whiskey wasn't where she'd left it. She took a deep breath. " Connor …"
"I'm sorry, but you're my responsibility. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't enjoy it either."
There was a splashing noise. Squid seized up every muscle in her body in abject anguish.
"As an act of good faith, I poured it out on the ground instead of drinking it, which is what I would've done earlier today. Now let's get out here, we're no longer needed."
Squid blinked at Bayen. Their eyes met once again, and behind her eyes was a tired, tired soul. It was pleading with him now. There were no tears in her eyes, but her soul was surely crying.
"Why do you hate me so much?"
Bayen opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked down at the empty glass. Squid leaned up real close to him, close enough that he could smell the alcohol that hung on each of her words. "I'm serious, Bayen, Why do you hate me? I know I'm a bad person, but you forgive lots of bad people. I mean, you literally let someone rob you today, rob all of us, and you talked with him like he was just another guy, like he wasn't a, a dogfucking parasite! Why is it me you hate?"
"... I told you, Squid, I'm responsible for you. And the correct amount of Alcoholic Beverages at work is Zero, so-"
"It's not- you know it isn't about that! It's not just about that!" She stood up. The alcohol was really starting to hit now, but with the help of her stool, she managed to find her balance. "It's everything, Connor! I hate what you make me do! I hate that I need to do things for you, that I need to- that you make me stand up for you, but you don't want me to, but then I'm not even worth beating? Cause you're too much of a ffffffucking sissy, to hit me! But not other people! Just me! Cause I'm "not worth it! "
Marwan was pointedly ignoring Squid's outburst, but Isaac was watching with concern. Squid felt a bit of shame well up in her stomach. Or maybe it was vomit. She tried to push the feeling back down. "So you, you can go! But I'm stayin! And that glass- the one you poured out? It was gonna be my last one! But now that you did this to me, I'm gonna keep drinking! So, so this time, it is because of you! It's because you didn't think I was worth it!"
Bayen started to say something, but then Squid vomited all over his pants and shoes, and fell into a pitiful little heap against the bar. She muttered a few more vaguely offensive phrases, but it was clear that Squid's lucid interval was finished for the night; No more coherent sentences would pass through her lips until morning.
"I'm sorry about all this," said Bayen. Doctor Isaac shook his head.
"Don't be. We all know she'll figure it out eventually, that's why we took the critter in. And you…" Doctor Isaac looked Connor Bayen up and down. Eventually, a smile crossed his young, bearded face. "Well, I'm sure you two will figure each other out. She's had a lot of EMT preceptors before you, but somehow, I get the feeling that you'll be the one who makes a breakthrough with her."
"I don't suppose it helps that he is the last available EMT who qualifies to be her preceptor, who has not already refused to work with her?"
Isaac grinned sheepishly. "God's plan! Amen, right Bayen?"
"...Amen."
Almost in unison, everyone looked over at Squid, now passed out, lying on the floor and snoring almost as loud as the patient was breathing. Isaac put a hand on Bayen's shoulder.
"I… I know it might seem like a lot of responsibility. But don't go giving up on her just yet, okay? She makes it easy, almost too easy, and I honestly wouldn't blame you-"
"Not helping our case, Isaac."
"Sorry Marwan. Uh, what I'm trying to say is, even she doesn't think she's worth the effort. You know? So, people tend to give up on her without seeing how much potential she's got, as a medic, and as a person. There's a lot of shit wrong there, and not all of it can be fixed but- well, I guess not all of it needs to be, not yet. You've gotta prioritize with folks like her. So just, keep all that in mind when you're dealing with her. Okay?"
Bayen nodded. "I'll try, Doc."
Isaac patted him on the shoulder. "Good. Get some rest. We'll make sure that Squid and the Patient both get somewhere to sleep too, before we leave, and that the patient is stable enough for us to go. We might wake you up to monitor him, but I doubt it, honestly."
"Uh, yeah. Alright. Goodnight, Doc!" Bayen set off towards the room he'd rented earlier. He could feel the waving behind him.
"Goodnight, Bayen!"
"Yes, goodnight Private Bayen."
In a hurry to get away from the night's events, Bayen started jogging as soon as he turned the corner, threw open the half-broken door, and slammed it behind him. He sighed.
Not worth beating. The words sent chills down his spine, sent his heart up into his throat. How the hell did she come to that conclusion…?
No. It was better he didn't think about it, not right now at least. He sat down on the bed. Other memories began to tickle his brain, memories of the past, memories of long marches and shouting and blood. But he pushed those away too. Not tonight. He would deal with those later. Always later. He could handle all of this, bear all of this weight, all this responsibility, if he could only handle it later.
