"I know."

Seven, actually. Counting the first one that had stopped her from filleting his husband. He put another two shots into her to make absolutely certain that they had enough time to get clear, and then he was jerking back from his rifle with a disgust that he hadn't felt towards it ever in all the years he'd been using it. At the moment, it was the most distasteful weapon he could think of. Cold and devoid of anything resembling honor or fairness. She deserved better than that.

But Booker hadn't deserved what she'd done to him and Joe certainly wouldn't have deserved that blade in his throat. In the end, he swallowed past the guilt and broke down his rifle in record speed, packing it up so that it could fit into the bag that he then slung over his back. He met up with Joe without a word. Only reached out to briefly touch his arm before moving to lead the way.

Finding the safehouse set up and ready for them when they got there sent a jerk through his heart and he did his best to not let it show how much he wanted to just drag Booker into a hug. Joe still hadn't really forgiven him yet, after all.

"How long were you there?"