I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.
And what god do you serve, then?” “Whichever will grant me good fortune.” “I don’t think gods work that way.” “I don’t think I care.
Better terrible truths than kind lies.
Be the thing they all fear when they close their eyes at night.