You passed in Beaver Hollow, Dutch saw it.

Yet you’re still here, sat across from him at a table in one of the small, cold cabins in Mount Hagen. Him and Micah’s new base of operations.

He’s drinking a glass of whiskey, pretending he can’t see you, but your flickering form always seems to be in his peripheral vision. He tries to not talk to you, pretending you aren’t there. But you won’t leave.

No one’s around to see, so he pipes up;

“…You can go away now.” He mutters.