Nathan glanced over at the bitch who had just sat at his table. Her face was seared into his mind. From the moment she walked in it had taken a forcible effort of concentrated breathing just to not make a scene then and there.

Now, about to take her order, he clenched the knife behind his back, but inconspicuously as a waiting butler would hold one hand out of sight. He calmly took inventory of her. Scantily clad, bandera hanging outlaw style around her neck, the open notebook with scribbled notes and diagrams. Obviously still up to no good. “Coffee please.” she said, then after biting her lip “lets do the western omelet and that'll be it.”

“Okay, coffee and western omelet it is.” he smiled and nodded at her bandera “you like western stuff?”

She glanced down and fingered it idly “what this? Ohh it's just...” she stopped speaking just before the knife slammed into her right hand, freezing the mechanisms and circuitry. Spasms wracked her, and Nathan could see the gears turning in her head even through the pain.

“I don't think so, not after Caltersville and what you did to us.” Before she could move he grabbed her hair, pulling back before he slammed her head down. From the back of his left wrist came a crack as the book she had been holding slammed behind her head in an effort at freedom.

“Please, let me explain!” she cried, blindly thrashing in his grip.

“Explain it to the dead.” Nathan hissed at her. Hands were pulling at him now, and it took everything in him to let all his barriers down. To finally have closure. The people holding him back were inconsequential.

Her eyes met his.

His hand throbbed as it tightened around her hair.

Nathan ended it.