[Conversely, every inch of her is a quivering target, she's just waiting for the bullets to turn and sink into the bulls-eye on her back. They can't just walk away from this so easily, can they? Rescues have never gone so easily before, even if her fingernails are still crusted with blood (not her blood) and her palms and knees are raw-rubbed.

If he lets her, she curls fingers in his sleeve again, and there she plans for them to stay until she's pushed him through the train doors and has no other choice but to release him.]

There's a diversion group, so we can leave through the main entryway. [ starts pulling, they've run up on their allotted dallying time for the day ] But they can't hold out forever, so we can't be slow about it. This way. The train is south of us.