He remembered telling you something, in the bathysphere. ‘We’re all buried at sea’. Well, he was right.

There he was, in what remained of Fontaine’s, collapsed on the floor. He had taken a bad hit from the Big Daddy that had tried to protect Sally, and could barely breathe. Mostly coming out in pained gurgles, with blood pooling around him. He knew this seemed like a setup. He knew something was going to go wrong. And now here he was, at your feet, dying. He wanted to save Sally, to run away from what he did as Comstock. But it seems old habits die hard.

He weakly tries to grab a vial of Eve, only for you to step in his way, as he was barely able to look up at you. You could see the pain in his eyes: the regret. The things he wanted to change, or run away from. It seemed almost inhumane in that moment. Leaving a man to die, half of his guts drilled out of him by an Adam-collecting machine. But he began to form words. Albeit coughing blood while he did so. Got normally low and gruff voice now weak, and quiet, as he was able to utter out three words.

Booker: “…Help me…please…”

That only left the question: would you help him? Or leave him to his fate?