[Salone]

Lev limped out of the armory, leaning on Rue a bit more than he probably should. After he was out of the armory, he pushed himself away. He stood for a moment, on his own. Holding that brief moment, he tumbled to the ground. Shuffling a bit, he produced his battered revolver from his pocket. He shoved the barrel against his chin, trying to pull himself in to a kneeling position as he did. He smiled sadly in to the sunlight, pulling the trigger. The soft click filled the silence, right before he threw the revolver. It clattered against the ground, skidding a few feet. He turned to look up at Rue, hate filling his eyes.

"I am my own man. I wish to die like one, if not live like one. Not like it matter. Have tried before. Have failed. But at least I try."