[It rankles, to have to rely on someone else to guide him, to keep him fucking alive - it's only because it's literally life or death, that he has a dearth of other options and no fucking John to help him that he's quick to relent, giving a curt nod.]
Got it. [And as he hunkers down in an awkward crouch, the kind that's ready to move again, he more or less hisses to himself:] Christ, what I wouldn't give for a fucking weapon...
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Got it. [And as he hunkers down in an awkward crouch, the kind that's ready to move again, he more or less hisses to himself:] Christ, what I wouldn't give for a fucking weapon...