“Fuck you,” she screams at him. “You weak—You fucking—” Her rage and sorrow dissolve into a wordless shriek. She bends over, touching her neck with trembling fingers. Her hand scrabbles madly at her holster. “Weils, don’t.” She takes out her pistol, her hand rising. She sneers at him. Weeping, her face opened wide with rage and sorrow, she wipes her hand under her nose and says, “I should fucking bite you, you coward. You fucking waste.”
