“You sure ‘bout this?” He asks you gently as he takes a seat next to you on the hotel bed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and gently kissing your temple. “Listen, baby—I’ve done some bad shit. You know the business, but this could cost you everythin’. I got no intention of bringing you down with me, should this little plan of ours go tits up.”

He knows you’re going to help him lie anyways. All you have to do is stand in court and deny everything. Deny that he worked with Shepherd, deny that he’d followed his orders—deny, deny, deny. You’d stab anyone in the back, so long as your husband got off scot free. You’ve been married for a long time, and been his right-hand for even longer—this was not going to be the end of Shadow Company. Not if you could help it.

“C’mon. You should get some sleep.” He tells you, trying to gently nudge you into a laying down position. “And listen, if you decide at any point you don’t wanna lie for my ass, you tell me. If you’re sure, though—make sure you don’t fuck it up. Practice. Rehearse.”