"Killed, more like," he said, because he'd thought it more than enough times to make it a near certainty in his own head. "With those maniacs at the helm."
He was quiet for a while. She was right, again, that it was better to do it sooner. And he didn't mind the thought of him, or even her, going as soon as the next morning. But the closer it came to the end, the fewer small hurdles there were to clear before they came to the day they'd know who had actually won, the less he enjoyed the thought of moving things along. "If things get worse, then," he said at last. Of course they would.