"Fuck, Matilda." Clyde didn't pull from her. Honestly, he was happy she was there. If she was there, then he couldn't go do something stupid. The last time he did something someone died. His head rested back and stared up at the ceiling. He couldn't even explain, couldn't tell her. She wouldn't understand. His fingers tightened about hers.
"Why the fuck would anyone want to kill them?" His head lifted, but he didn't look at her. Focusing on her didn't seem right. Looking at her. He didn't want her to see. "It's not like they fucking did anything. They didn't harm anyone; they weren't even fucking involved."