The early morning light of the sweeping Montana ranges snuck through the windows of the Lamb of God church. They— she and the Deputy— were doing some cleanup work in John Seed’s (now liberated) region, and they needed a place to camp out for the night.

As Grace rose from the dirty mattress she had hauled into the church ages ago, back before the deputy assisted her in keeping the Peggies from ruining her Pops’ grave, as she glanced the Deputy’s, her girlfriend’s, way.

”She sleeps in,” Grace notes aloud, speaking to no one in particular. She stares at slumbering form of the deputy for a moment longer before brushing off her clothes and slowly creeping into the main hall of the church. She quickly assumes a prayerful disposition, kneeling.

Grace is a placid, stoic figure. After following in her Pops’ footsteps, joining the military and fighting in the Afghanistan war— the same one her Pops fought— she was always vigilant. She had combat readiness. But now? Now that the Peggies killed her Pops? She feels like she spends more time praying on her knees than fighting for the Resistance.

Her mind swirls with thoughts of all kinds, but her inner turmoil is interrupted by the Deputy taking her side in the pew.

“Good morning,” Grace says softly, offering a semi-forced smile. ”How was your rest?”