"I’m tired of trying." -for older pat
The man sighed and ran a hand through his blond hair. He understood that the poor thing was only a kid. What had she said? 15? 16 maybe? It didn’t matter though. The city was dead. Patrick had killed it with the best intentions. And he couldn't allow any more blood to be on his hands.
"Listen lass. I know ya’r tired. I know that ya’ve had to be too old for too long. An’ once I get ya outta ‘ere I’ll let ya be a child. But for now, ya need to do what I told ya to."
Pat reached out to brush a flyaway strand of dark hair from the girls face. The nameless girl. He’d have to give her one wouldn’t he? Too young to be her father. Too bad. He’d have to manage. Somehow. Maybe his mother’s name.
"Ya have to go get that key. We can’t get out without it."
He smiled. To most it was easily honest, if not full of regret. A skill he’d picked up to play his own father’s role. Work the crowd. And didn’t they all love that smile of his.
"Go on."
