[He lifts his gaze to look at her when he hears the distress in her voice. Booker frowns, listening and searching, trying to parse out her words, her advice.
But it's less advice and more insight into her character, and something about what he's said -- his implied eagerness for death, the pointlessness he sees in him just being -- seems to distress Amelia greatly. Even as she tells him that she'll help him find someplace far away, where no one would know him or miss him, his look transforms into concern.
Always fucking it up, DeWitt, he thinks to himself, a self-deprecation he thinks is well-deserved. He doesn't want to be the reason why she looks so... desperate. It's his own problem; it wouldn't be fair dumping it onto her, when all she's done so far has been gracious to him in every way.]
No. [He's interrupts, before she can entertain the idea anymore.] I don't... I won't need your help with anything like that. Just forget I said anything about it, all right?
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But it's less advice and more insight into her character, and something about what he's said -- his implied eagerness for death, the pointlessness he sees in him just being -- seems to distress Amelia greatly. Even as she tells him that she'll help him find someplace far away, where no one would know him or miss him, his look transforms into concern.
Always fucking it up, DeWitt, he thinks to himself, a self-deprecation he thinks is well-deserved. He doesn't want to be the reason why she looks so... desperate. It's his own problem; it wouldn't be fair dumping it onto her, when all she's done so far has been gracious to him in every way.]
No. [He's interrupts, before she can entertain the idea anymore.] I don't... I won't need your help with anything like that. Just forget I said anything about it, all right?