( sometimes, survival sucked. it meant doing terrible things for the sake of living long enough to get to the only things that ever mattered.

except, five is still relieved when henry relents, visibly backing off, bowed back straightening. he didn't want to leave him behind, in the cold dark and with the risk of dying from exposure. a shitty death, one that would be on his head. he's had enough of a body count as it were and collateral was worse than the conscious pull of a trigger. the last time someone had tried to actively help him, they ended up dead too.

they were still toeing that line together this very moment, as he turns around and keeps walking and sticks close. motion helps to keep the numbness away, if only just. ) Maybe. Maybe someone's just playing with their food. ( where doc thinks of demons, five remembers the handler. his search had made him fairly certain the commission had no hand in this - a bit too much out of their reach for the rolodex of people gathered here, and even out of her reach. )

Ah, thanks. ( there's a note of surprise, guilt a knot in his chest once more. ) I looked there too. Didn't find anything too useful, but did hit up an old western history book. ( doc might be able to catch the smallest hint of amusement, there. )