Booker was confused. He couldn’t understand why you reminded him of his wife. You looked nothing like her. Sounded awfully different than her. But he cared for you like he did for her. The way you cared for Elizabeth made him feel like he was back in New York City.

Maybe it was your ruthlessness that made him like you. Or your bluntness. He couldn’t point it out. It was a mystery to him.

He watched you as you took apart your shotgun, cleaning it for a long needed cleansing. Where he was from, women weren’t too adjusted to doing dirty work. Seeing you do it was…enticing.

“You know where this goes right?” He points to a loose cog on the table.