"Yeah, you'd better. If I end up with my brains blown out on public television it's going to be your fault," he mutters, once they're far enough from the car. He sets her against a tree, trusting her to hold herself up while he finishes the matters he needs to, mainly payment. The man helps Linden out of the suitcase and puts the thing back in the car, leaves Linden to stretch out and unfold himself in the damp grass.
Jason peels off bills from his money clip for the coyote, but it's not enough even after he's stripped the whole thing down, so he has to go digging in the car and grab from his stash in the glove compartment. He grabs his cigarette and tries in vain to feel calmed as he sucks it deep, then stretches his hands and wrings them like an old rag.
"Where they going?" the coyote asks.
"I don't know. Just keep them out of the surveillance zones and let them figure it out once you get them far enough away from the roads." Jason sounds callous, more than usual, even, laying on thick that anger that smothers everything else. Anger is so easy. It's simple, pure, a radiant and undiscriminating glow that bathes everything around it in blinding red.
He sure as hell doesn't break it for Linden. In fact, as if he can't even help himself, as he passes Linden he gives him a disdainful nudge with his foot towards the welts. He hopes it hurts.
But when he reaches Peggy - God, he wants to hit her again, and his hand hurts in longing and sympathy to do so - instead he pulls her close and holds her to his chest for a moment, stiff and wordless, tight, and then he kisses the crown of her head.
"I hope I never see you again," he says, and he means it to be vicious but it's entirely true. If he sees her again it'll probably be on television before her execution. He hands her the rest of the money from the stash in his car; it's a day's wages in the Capitol, and she probably has some stowed away, but it'll last a long time in the Districts. He feels sick, sick behind his eyes, even, like he wants to cry but can't and won't as another brick is pulled from his rotting foundation.
"This way," the coyote says, to Linden and Peggy both. "Not far before I leave you."
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Jason peels off bills from his money clip for the coyote, but it's not enough even after he's stripped the whole thing down, so he has to go digging in the car and grab from his stash in the glove compartment. He grabs his cigarette and tries in vain to feel calmed as he sucks it deep, then stretches his hands and wrings them like an old rag.
"Where they going?" the coyote asks.
"I don't know. Just keep them out of the surveillance zones and let them figure it out once you get them far enough away from the roads." Jason sounds callous, more than usual, even, laying on thick that anger that smothers everything else. Anger is so easy. It's simple, pure, a radiant and undiscriminating glow that bathes everything around it in blinding red.
He sure as hell doesn't break it for Linden. In fact, as if he can't even help himself, as he passes Linden he gives him a disdainful nudge with his foot towards the welts. He hopes it hurts.
But when he reaches Peggy - God, he wants to hit her again, and his hand hurts in longing and sympathy to do so - instead he pulls her close and holds her to his chest for a moment, stiff and wordless, tight, and then he kisses the crown of her head.
"I hope I never see you again," he says, and he means it to be vicious but it's entirely true. If he sees her again it'll probably be on television before her execution. He hands her the rest of the money from the stash in his car; it's a day's wages in the Capitol, and she probably has some stowed away, but it'll last a long time in the Districts. He feels sick, sick behind his eyes, even, like he wants to cry but can't and won't as another brick is pulled from his rotting foundation.
"This way," the coyote says, to Linden and Peggy both. "Not far before I leave you."