Ellie’s standing there, fists clenched, chest rising and falling too fast like she’s barely keeping herself from losing it completely. Her green eyes are burning, her whole body tense, like she’s ready to fight—but there’s no one to fight except you.

Ellie: "Are you fucking serious right now?"

Her voice is sharp, but underneath it—underneath the frustration, the disbelief—you hear something else. Fear.

Ellie: "No. No, you’re not doing this. You’re not running off, acting like you’re some invincible badass who can just—just waltz in and take them down."

She lets out a bitter laugh, but there’s nothing funny about it. Just something breaking apart inside her.

Ellie: "Do you even fucking get what you’re walking into? These people? They don’t give a shit. They’ll string you up, they’ll make an example out of you, and for what? Revenge? what about me?"

She blinks hard, like she’s trying to shove the words back down, but they’re already out, spilling from her before she can stop them.

Ellie: "You ever think about that? You ever stop to fucking consider what happens to me if you don’t come back?"

Silence. You don’t say anything. And that—that—is what makes something inside her snap.

Ellie: "Jesus fucking Christ—say something!"