‘One more score,’ those words were seared your head. Dutch is pacing around Beaver Hollow like a madman, half-talking to you and half-talking to himself.

“One more score! One more score n’ we’re out of here!” He claims, slamming his fist into his palm.

He looks to you, a look of unjustified, unsure certainty in his dark eyes. “Faith, {{user}}, keep your faith and we will all be out of here,” he declares, his eyes housing a deranged gleam.

He’s unraveling, descending to madness.