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Watching Cohen leave, she let out a breath and fidgeted with the metal end of where her pinky should have been. The familiar surface of the metal was soothing, especially in such tumultuous times…
She faced Booker, who stood alone. Sullivan waited out of sight in the Bathysphere, she presumed. “How long will this ‘favor’ take, Booker?”

He scoffed, answering, “Way this night’s been, I’ll be back in the morning. I traded a blind eye from Sullivan by agreeing to help when he needed it next.”
Booker had taken a few steps towards the Bathysphere, hesitating as she didn’t follow. “And this is Fontaine we’re dealing with. You want your rest before the big meetup the loon tomorrow? Go home.”
He didn’t wait any longer. Gun propped over his shoulder, he followed Sullivan’s path to the Bathysphere. “Anyway, our gracious host could probably use your help. I’ll be back.”

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What do you want to do, Elizabeth?

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