"You don't have to. Im always here, my love."
The smile never leaves. Nor do the hands that gingerly trace the cheek down to rigid shoulders.
Yet the brown eye blinks carefully, remaining in thought as it always was.
"You're feeling better... that's good."
He stays quiet. The way it worded the answer made his stomach twist; hands clench; eyes narrow.
He considers it. Taking the revolver, hit a non vital, pray that he didnt misplace his crucifix ... But the free hand trembles.