Fuck.

Fuck.

"-I don't think he's the kind you save, he's the kind you stop."

...

"I don't think I can do that."

He knows he can't

"Well, he might not give you a choice. He doesn't know you."

Might not?

There's hope?

He's missed hope.

...

"He will."

He hopes.

Hope.

He knows he won't be able to stop him.

He couldn't.

He'd sooner drink belladonna gin.

...

If he did.

He'd drink it anyway.

...

"Gear up. It's time."

(A/N: So, I have decided that I am a liar that cares naught for my sanity.)